Hidden Agenda
by Woodland Flower
Summary: International politics, criminals & murder; never a good combination, as Mac's team find when their lives come under threat. Meanwhile, Flack struggles to cope with his grief after Pay-Up. Mac/Stella, DL & all the team. By lily moonlight & Forest Angel
1. Call Out

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 wouldn't have happened, but it did so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt. _

_Notes: This is a new project for us; a collaboration between _**lily moonlight** _and _**Forest Angel**. _A case story, set a few months after 'Pay Up', that deals with the fallout from events of that fateful day in May, as a series of murders that leads the our characters into murky waters of politics and dirty dealings, and of course, plenty of danger... A whole team fic with Mac/Stella, DL and the possibility of romance developing for Flack as he begins to move on after Jess's death.  
_

_We also have no real idea how the UN works so have probably taken a few liberties with details, but this is fiction after all!_

_

* * *

_Chapter 1 - **Call Out**

Day: 1

Opening Scene: E47th Street Parking Garage

Time of Day: 3am

Month: Early September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate

* * *

Danny pulled the department SUV into the corner of the parking lot and got out, pulling his silver case with him and reaching back for a camera before closing the door and walking towards the heavily lit centre area. There were already uniformed officers standing guard, keeping back the few civilians who were milling around. The weather was hot and muggy, and the heat from the previous day still lingered around the dark parking lot. Outside there was a light breeze, but the enclosed space where Danny now found himself was stuffy, and he ran his hand through his hair, feeling the stickiness of the heat on his scalp. A few cars were left on basement level 3 most of them bearing diplomatic plates from the various nations who had offices in the vicinity. He saw Flack finish his conversation with a uniformed worker and headed in his direction.

"Flack, what have we got?"

"Dead male, around 35, Caucasian. Looks like he was stabbed a few times, the parking attendant found him about an hour ago, doesn't recognise him, but this guy is the night duty man and usually works midnight to 6 am."

"Any ID?" Danny asked as he shouldered the camera and began taking photos of the body and the silver sedan car next to it, careful to snap the diplomatic license plate should it be needed to help identify the victim or a suspect. He sighed. The Brass were going to be all over this one, so he hoped it would be easy to solve. Getting involved in Diplomatic Immunity and the political crap that went with it was something they all hated.

"Nothing so far and no briefcase or anything either, which you might've expected. I've got unis checking all dumpsters and trash bins in a five block radius."

"You realise where we are Flack?" Danny groaned, as he looked around them at the vehicles seeming to taunt him with their important plates. He snapped photos of all of them and their locations for reference purposes.

"Yeah, UN City. Five European representatives in the building across the street and dozens of others in that five block radius my guys are searching for this guy's ID. I sure hope he doesn't belong to one of them."

"Does Mac know?"

"Yeah, he's at another scene across town, said to keep him up on developments. If this turns political he wants to know before it hits the press."

"Around here that's going to be a tough call." Danny commented as he continued to process the body allowing Flack to step away to answer his phone. He returned a few minutes later.

"We may have something; they found a wallet in a trash can a couple of blocks over. I'm going to take a look. You OK here? Unis are on the perimeter."

"I'm fine. This guy's probably been here about 4 hours, he's just going into rigour, body temp puts TOD around 11 pm. I count 4 stab wounds, and several nasty bruises, some defence wounds. He put up a fight."

Flack nodded in acknowledgment and walked away. Danny watched him go, shaking his head slightly, knowing that his friend was far from okay himself.

-----

Outside the garage Flack met the officer and relieved him of the wallet which had been placed in a plastic bag. Pulling on a pair of gloves he pulled it out and opened it, finding a couple of credit cards and little else. He replaced them, took out his phone, and dialled a number.

"Mac... Yeah, it's Flack... Listen, you said you wanted to know if this got political... I got something you're not going to like. Our vic was carrying ID for the British Delegation to the UN. .... Yeah, Danny is still with the body in the garage. I'll pass on the guy's credentials then make some calls to the British Consulate, they'll have someone on call 24/7."

-----

Don was standing with his back to the body watching Danny load his SUV with the evidence, as the ME's van drew up and the staff jumped out to retrieve the body. A shout and flurry of footsteps caught their attention then and Don turned towards the assembled uniforms by the entrance.

"Sir you can't go over there, Sir!" A uniformed officer called as a young man pushed his way past. "Flack!" Flack looked up at the older, grey haired and rather rotund officer; he knew Watson from way back, he was close to retirement and had worked with his old man, which allowed for the informal greeting. 'Detective Flack' from the guys on the beat was too stuffy to his mind, although some of his counterparts got really pissed if they weren't addressed formally. As far as he was concerned they were all there to do the same job, even if his badge carried a few additional responsibilities.

He waved to the officer as he saw the geeky looking kid barging through the assembled crowd. "Alright Watson, I've got it." Flack called as he stepped in front of the intruder causing him to cease his approach to the body. "Sir, I need you to step back over there, this is a crime scene, can't you see the yellow tape?."

"I know, I was called. Roger Franklin, British Vice Consul. ... Is he really dead?" He asked peering around Flack as the ME's staff finally moved in to lift the body.

"Detective Flack, yes he is. What can you tell me about him?"

"Nothing really, you found his ID?"

"It was dumped a few blocks from here, are you able to formally identify him?"

"No, I never met him." He answered pushing his heavy rimmed glasses up his nose, then running his hand through his short cropped dark hair. Flack observed him for a moment. Franklin reminded him of Adam Ross, in the way of being slightly nerdy, but this guy was skinny with it. He was wearing an old pair of faded jeans and a Yankees sweatshirt that hung off his shoulders. He looked freaked and out of place. Flack wondered if he had ever seen a dead body before and he wasn't convinced this guy was going to be able to handle the shit which was heading their way.

"What can you tell me about him?"

"Nothing really. Someone at the delegation will know, but they're not open until 9 am. I'm just here for emergencies."

"I'd say a British Diplomat being murdered outside the Delegation Office is a pretty big emergency wouldn't you?"

"I guess." Flack looked the guy up and down again. He estimated him to be in his early twenties, he didn't seem the sort to be out in the real world, more likely he should be stuck somewhere in research or behind a computer doing some routine job.

"Then I need some answers. What was this guy doing here at 11pm last night?" Franklin opened his mouth but Flack held up his hand. "Let me guess, You don't know. So tell me what you do know about Michael Stratton."

"Never heard of him, but we've got a lot of new people in town for the General Assembly, he could be one of them."

Flack sighed heavily. "Then I suggest you find me someone who does. If word on this gets out I don't think your Delegation will like hearing that one of their staff has been murdered on your watch."

Franklin looked around nervously. "Are you sure he's a diplomat?"

"His Delegation ID looked real."

".... Then I have to call the Metropolitan Police, they will want to send someone to help with the investigation."

"This is New York pal, it's our investigation and I need answers now. So are you going to give me what I want or do I have to wake up the Ambassador?"

"Well I guess I could call the Delegation Liaison Officer."

"That sounds like a very good idea. Ask him to bring a list of the British staff who are here and who may have been around the office last night between ten and midnight."

".. I'll have to wake them up."

"Yeah? Do it, some one woke me up to get me here to do my job." Don snapped.

The fact that he hadn't actually been sleeping was information he didn't want to share. But the truth was even nearly four months after Jess was shot he still wasn't sleeping properly. He was often plagued with the nightmares of carrying her from that diner, her blood pouring over him as he rushed her to the hospital in a vain attempt to save her life. His pleading and promises that she would be alright already empty words as her life drained away from the hole in her stomach. He knew it was bad when he had moved her jacket and seen all the blood leaking out of her. Knowing later that the weapon used had given her no chance of survival was cold comfort. It had haunted him too, the wondering if he had made the right decision in moving her, taking her to hospital himself without waiting for the ambulance. But he knew deep down that whatever choice he made, she had stood no chance. And none of it changed the fact that she was gone. She was gone and he missed her. He missed her like hell.

"Flack. ... Flack!" Danny called him insistently, seeing his friend losing the focus in his eyes for a moment. He felt relief as Don shook his head and looked around slightly dazed.

"What's up?" He looked round. "You seen that idiot I was talking to?"

"Yeah, I don't know what you said to him I thought he was going pee his pants. He's with Watson making some calls. .... Are you alright?"

"I'm fine .... you done here?"

Danny debated with himself for a moment whether he should say anything else. He knew his friend still claimed to be alright when anyone asked, but underneath he knew he wasn't. The off duty games of hoops, although sporadic when Jess was around, had stopped completely after she died. They didn't get together to watch the ball games and everything else along with that as they had done before. All Flack seemed to do was work and close himself off. He'd even been pretty quiet about the Rangers over the summer. Things were serious, however, the middle of a crime scene was not the place for Danny to raise his concerns so he merely nodded. "All packed up. You need me to hang around?"

"Give me 10 minutes? I'll see you up on the street."

"No problem." Danny walked away thinking that it was time to drag his friend back into the real world, that leaving him alone to mope was not helping anyone. Maybe he would talk to Stella, and ask for her advice; after all she had been there when Mac had lost his wife eight years earlier. The decision made him feel slightly more at ease as he got into the SUV ready to drive up to the street.

-----

Flack walked over to the group of uniformed officers as Franklin finished his call. The detective homed in on the young official. "You find someone who can answer the questions?"

"Um, yeah, she's on her way, she said we're not to touch anything or leave the scene until she gets here and says it's OK."

"That's not the way we work pal. This is our investigation, the body's on its way to autopsy and the evidence on its way to our labs for processing. We will be informing the Chief of Detectives and the Commissioner of the situation and there will be the proper liaison, but get this, no way do you run your own investigation. That's my job." Flack snapped at him. "We'll wait upstairs." He pointed towards the staircase at the side as the ME's van and Danny's SUV drove out. The last thing Flack wanted was some snooty Brit sticking her government's nose into the investigation. The few instructions she'd given Franklin to pass on grated and Flack decided that she had to be some fifty odd year old battle axe who was too officious for her own good and had probably never seen a dead body before.

Danny had parked his SUV and was waiting for Flack and the Vice Consul at the entrance to the parking garage, where they waited in silence for several minutes. Eventually the silence of the morning was broken by the drone of a motorcycle engine which drew closer at speed and slid to a halt in front of them. Franklin stepped forward and greeted the figure who dismounted. Danny and Flack ignored them in favour of giving the bike envious looks.

"See that Flack, it's a Ninja, I've heard about them, they're all the rage in Europe. Their version of the Harley."

"I see it." Flack looked over the royal blue paintwork with silver accents and black leather seat. "That's awesome."

"I've been called a few things in my time, but never sidelined in favour of my bike." A crisp British voice announced at their side. "Roger tells me I need to see the crime scene detective to answer some questions."

Danny and Flack both turned and were met with a vision of the British Official standing before them with her helmet tucked under her arm dressed from shoulders to toes in black leather. She was tall, elegantly built, with blonde hair, in a kind of bob reaching to her shoulders. For being woken and dragged out to meet them at 5am she looked remarkably alert. Neither of them had spoken and he heard an audible intake of breath from Flack as they stood side by side.

She tapped her foot on the pavement. "I assume you're detectives by your badges, can you please tell me who I need to speak to?" She asked sounding irritated.

"Flack, I'm going to leave you I need to get this evidence back to the lab. I'll catch you later."

"... Yeah, right." Flack sneered noting Danny was taking the easy way out. Flack rubbed his face as Danny wandered to his SUV. "Sorry, ... Detective Flack." He held out his hand as she pulled her gloves off and stuffed them in her helmet, then accepted his hand with a firm shake.

"Natalia Hunt, British Delegation Liaison Officer. How can I help?"

"I'm sorry to pull you down here, but we've got a situation. Can you tell me anything about Michael Stratton?"

"He's the Foreign Secretary's Assistant Private Secretary." She saw the confused look on Flack's face and huffed. "An aide to you. He arrived a week ago and will be going home with the delegation after the General Debate. What's the problem?"

"Your lackey there didn't tell you what went down here?"

"No, he just said there was some issue and NYPD were demanding to speak to someone about the delegation. Can we get to the point please detective, because if I have to do damage limitation over some high pranks let me know so I can work on it before the morning briefing."

"Franklin! ... Roger, Come here a minute." Flack beckoned to the Vice Consul who was loitering several feet away. He shuffled over looking between the Liaison Officer and the detective. "You didn't tell her why we needed to talk?" Flack stated, his face inches from the young man's.

"Ah, no, I uh figured you could explain it better than me." Franklin mumbled incoherently. Natalia noticed the tension and gave the Vice Consul a way out of the situation.

"Roger, I think you'd better go get yourself some breakfast and see me in my office at 8 am to go over your report before the morning briefing with Sir John." Roger turned several shades of red before making his escape from Flack who turned to the woman.

"Ms Hunt, Michael Stratton is dead. He was murdered here last night. I don't think it was the result of high pranks as you put it." Flack snapped at her. "What was he doing here?"

".. Michael's dead? Are you sure?"

Flack was so furious he failed to see the flicker of emotion that ran over her face, or the shock in her voice. "Not you too... Yeah, he's dead."

"That's a little harsh detective, I realise you can't tell me everything but if you want me to help you, I need a little more information." She snapped back. Her blue eyes glaring at him.

".. Like I pointed out to Franklin this is an NYPD investigation. Diplomatic or otherwise you have no formal input."

"No, but you want access to information about the movements last night of one of our people and for that we need to work together." She replied curtly.

"I don't need you to co-operate I can just walk in with a warrant for what I need."

"And create a diplomatic incident in the process which I know won't impress your superiors or mine. ... Can I see the crime scene?"

"It's pretty bad."

"I can handle it Detective, I'm sure I've seen a lot worse. ... Do you also need a formal identification of Michael's body?"

"Our ME would. ... Are you sure about the scene?"

"Definitely."

Flack nodded and lead the way to the crime scene. She stood staring at the blood for a few minutes while Flack did the opposite, the sight of blood now, any blood, always brought back images of Jess and his discovery of the gaping hole in her side. He waited with his back to her while she studied the area, he wasn't concerned about her contaminating the scene as Watson was standing with them watching her.

"Detective, was a briefcase recovered?" She asked finally as she returned to his side.

"No, nothing except his wallet, which was probably tossed by the perp as he made his escape."

"He would have carried a briefcase." She frowned, "He shouldn't have been down here, he doesn't have a car, it's walking distance to the hotel, so I'm confused."

"Would he have got a lift from someone?"

"No, he was the last one in the office when I left around 10.30."

"So you would be the last one to see him alive?"

"Almost, we have a security officer on duty 24/7 and he would have been the last unless Michael ran into someone on the way out, which is possible."

"I'll need the name and address of the security guard."

"He'll still be at the office, but if you question him I get to be there to protect his interests." She answered firmly.

"I could just take him down town and question him there, no need for your presence at all." Flack replied. He knew he was being difficult and off handed, but he didn't care. Something about the whole incident was chewing out his insides and he couldn't grasp what it was. Things always went bad when Diplomatic Immunity was involved.

"Fine! Just try it, we'll scream immunity to everyone up your chain of command. I suggest you get your head in the game Detective, I don't want your investigation, I know we have no standing, but you can't do everything alone either, I can help grease the wheels with the delegation, which can only be to your advantage. All I'm asking for is some professional courtesy." She flung at him angrily, before turning on her heel and walking off towards her bike. A few steps on, she stopped and turned round, a softer tone in her voice, "Just think about it, all right?"

Flack grunted non-commitally, and felt bitter with himself as he deliberately avoided looking at her while she gave him a long and considered stare. Eventually she shrugged and turned away to wheel her bike into the garage. Dragging his phone from his pocket, and trying to ignore the feeling that he might just have royally screwed up, he punched in a familiar number and rubbed his chin whilst he waited for his call to be answered. "Mac. ... Yeah. It's started and we're already in the thick of it. We need to talk, I'll be heading your way after a visit to the Delegation Office. If Stell's about, tell her to join us. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you're not going to like what I've got to tell you. ... I'll give you all the details when I get there." He wasted no time in signing off pleasantries, instead he ended the call with a stab of his finger, shoved his phone back in his pocket and strode off towards the building across the street where the Liaison Officer had gone a moment earlier. The day had started badly, and was showing no sign of getting any better.

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_Please review and let us know what you think! We'd love to know. Reviews help fuel the writing process, and we'll try and post the next chapter soon. Also, check out our individual stories. Thank you, lily and Forest_


	2. Secrets and Lies

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! Plenty of action and drama coming up, as well as time with our favourite pairings :D _

_Thanks also for the alerts and favourites. We hope to update our individual stories soon also - 'Beacons of Home' and 'Once upon a time in the Old West'._

Chapter 2 - **Secrets & Lies**

Day: 1

Opening Scene: NYC Morgue

Time of Day: 7 am

Month: Early September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate

* * *

The body of Michael Stratton lay in front of him, giving nothing away. Sid sighed and stood looking at the man with his hands pressed on the edge of the autopsy table. He was young and it always brought a pang of regret to be autopsying those who should have had, in his opinion, many more years ahead of them. A 35 year old man had a whole future ahead of him, now never to be lived. It was always the regret of his job; that he witnessed the end of so many young lives.

But all he could do now was what he was best at, what he was skilled at. Finding answers. It was the least he could do for a life cut short. Preparing the instruments he needed, Sid set to his task and began to try and find the answers to the questions Michael Stratton's death had engendered.

It did not take him long, however, to cut into the pale skin and reveal more questions than answers as he probed and removed his internal organs. As his hand paused with the scalpel hovering over Stratton's opened abdomen, Sid made a decision. If he was correct about what he had just discovered, then the knowledge needed to be shared immediately.

Placing the scalpel down, he pulled off his gloves and picked up his phone. "Mac? I think you need to come down here and see for yourself what I've just discovered about your latest vic." As he ended the call, Sid gazed at Stratton's body, his eyes running over every inch, curiosity alight in his eyes, "Well young man, seems you've provided us with quite the mystery."

------

Natalia lead the way from the elevator to the end of the hall. She stopped and rang the bell at the large bullet proof reception window next to the heavy duty fire door which filled the end wall of the short corridor. Eventually after several minutes a man appeared at the window. He greeted her warmly and queried her early appearance. Noting the man with her he hesitated to buzz the door open.

"Hey, Jim, sorry to disturb you, but we need to speak to you. This is detective Flack from NYPD can you let us in." The guard looked curiously at Flack, then back at Natalia.

"Tali, you sure this is OK, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, it's kosher, Detective Flack needs to clarify the movements of our staff last night. We'll explain everything inside." Jim looked her over, she didn't seem unduly worried and her voice showed no sign of nervousness or fear.

A little reluctantly he finally buzzed the door allowing Natalia to lead the way in. She offered Flack a seat in the waiting area and quickly swiped her access card at another door. "I'll just be a minute, I need to sign in."

Flack didn't answer and when she returned a few minutes later the man who opened the door was with her. He was a little surprised the guy was a guard, he must have been pushing retirement and had more than a few extra pounds to his credit apart from being almost bald. Flack withdrew his memo book and pen.

"Jim, Detective Flack is the homicide detective on the case. Detective, this is Jim Swain, our senior security officer." Natalia introduced them. "I've given Jim the highlights of what is going on. He'll help anyway he can."

"Mr Swain, how well do you know Michael Stratton?"

"Not very well, I met him when he arrived last week. He's been in and out of the office the last few days in meetings I imagine going over the logistics for the main delegation. I accompanied him to review the hotel where the main delegation will stay a couple of days ago. He was here late sending messages to London."

"What sort of messages?"

"That I can't answer."

"Typically it would be a report on the logistics so far and his recommendations for additional meetings for the Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary. In the current climate there are a lot of demands to meet with the government heads of the West, to compare notes and strategies for handling the economic crisis." Natalia added.

"Mr Swain, when did you last see him?"

"10.50 last night."

"That's very precise."

"Out of normal office hours everyone signs in and out. I always check the clock when they do and it goes in the book. I checked it before I came out here."

"Can I get a copy of that?"

Jim looked at Natalia as if asking permission. She shook her head. "Sorry we can't do that." She replied. Flack glared at her.

"Are you being deliberately difficult?"

"Are you really that clueless about protocol?" She snapped back then took a deep breath. "I can't let you have the book or a copy, but I can let you see it and we'll guarantee that it will be kept safe should things go as far as a court hearing and the proper paperwork can be filed."

"Fine." Flack snapped, it was obviously the best he was going to get for now.

Five minutes later Flack was on his way really none the wiser about Michael Stratton, or what he had been doing in the garage. The only thing he had gained was a headache from the stress of knowing that everything was going to blow up at some point and he was caught in the cross-fire between the Brass and the obnoxious Delegation Liaison Officer.

Natalia watched him leave from the reception desk as Jim returned with a cup of tea for her. "What happens now?"

"I'm going to drink my tea, check my emails and head over to the morgue to identify Mike's body. I have to be back to meet Roger at 8 and prepare for the briefing at 9."

"Tali, are you sure you're OK?" Asked Jim kindly.

"Yeah, just pissed off at the arrogance of that bloody detective." She answered waving her hand at the departing elevator, then she turned back to the security officer and sighed. "That and the fact I'm going to have to send the news back to London to Mike's wife. ... I'll be alright though." She clutched the cup of tea and headed out to her office.

----

"What have you got for me, Sid?"

The ME looked up as Mac entered the morgue and strode over to the body of Michael Stratton. Grey eyes met his with a challenge, and Sid saw immediately with the lack of his usual composure the pressure that Mac and the rest of his team were under, and began to feel it pushing down on himself as well.

He made a sweeping gesture towards the body, "Your vic is hiding, or _was_ hiding, a few interesting secrets. On the surface, it would seem he died as a result of stab wounds from a knife..."

"And you're telling me he didn't?" Mac interrupted with a frown, and Sid did not fail to notice how his fingers tapped with a metallic beat on the top of a counter.

"I'm telling you the stab wounds are only a part of it. The fatal wound was not from a knife."

Mac's eyebrows raised, and Sid darted over to fetch Stratton's liver which he had carefully removed, "See here? The lesion on his liver?"

Moving closer, Mac peered at the organ and his eyebrows lifted further, "I see it. What is it telling you?"

Sid smiled, appreciating Mac's comment, "They're telling me our vic had already been struck a fatal blow before he received the knife wounds. A sharp instrument, long and thin, something akin to a knitting needle in fact, or a skewer was used to stab him, it penetrated his liver, causing internal bleeding which ultimately was fatal. None of the wounds he received from the knife were enough on their own to kill him, had he received help fast enough, though they certainly helped him on his way."

Pausing for breath, and for consideration, Sid looked at Mac carefully and watched as a frown spread across his face, lowering his brow and creasing his eyes at the corners. It was a look he had seen too often on his face in the last few months. On all of his team. The events of May had caused pain for all of them, not least Flack. The autopsy of Jessica Angell still haunted Sid, it was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do, but he knew he had to do it, for her. For those who were left behind. And at the end of that day, when they thought that the blow they had received was the worst that could happen, their lives had been shattered further with the hail of bullets that had splintered the windows of the bar, and almost taken the life of Sheldon Hawkes.

He remembered the moments after the shards of glass had settled, he would remember them for the rest of his life. Each second of the events had scarred his memory the same as the slivers of glass had sliced into and scarred the skin of all of them. They all carried the physical and mental wounds of that evening. Mac had been the first to struggle to his feet, and had taken charge, calling out to his colleagues. Sid had raised his head next, followed by Stella and then Don. All of them sprinkled with fragments of glass and blood, but all of them alive and conscious. Adam, Lindsay and Danny had also responded and then had followed the terrible silence and realisation that not all of them had escaped the spray of bullets.

As he looked again at the body of Michael Stratton, Sid could not stop the rush of memory, and thankfulness that he had not been forced to see another colleague on the cold steel table. He knew though that Sheldon was fully recovered, in body at least, having seen him only that morning, but he knew also that the emotional recovery for all of them was far from complete. And, he worried often, far from certain too for some of them.

What was certain, however, was that Mac was looking at him expectantly, "You got any theories?"

Sid grinned, "I have a few, which I'm sure you're keen to hear."

A smile flickered briefly across Mac's face, "As always..."

Interruption came in the form of the man Sid had been thinking about only moments before. With an apologetic look on his face, Sheldon jogged down the steps towards them, "Sorry to interrupt you, but I got someone who's come to ID our latest vic. Natalia Hunt, Liaison Officer for the British Delegation to the UN. Thought you might want to speak to her yourself."

"Where is she?" Mac asked, the frown lowering onto his features again, after Sid saw a look of recognition cross his face at the name. It piqued his curiosity.

"Waiting upstairs, I told her it was unlikely she'd be able to ID the guy just yet."

Pinching the bridge of his nose and releasing a heavy sigh, Mac turned to Sid, "Thanks for the information. I think at this point, it might be useful to ask some questions of Miss Hunt. Keep me posted on anything else you discover, Sid."

With Hawkes trailing behind, Mac spun on his heel, and left the morgue, leaving Sid with his thoughts and the body of Michael Stratton. A body that he hoped had a few more answers to yield to him.

------

"Detective Taylor?"

Mac looked at the woman walking towards him, and recognised in her some of the stresses he was under. She held out her hand as he approached and he took it, receiving a firm grasp in return, "Miss Hunt I presume? I'm Mac Taylor, head of the New York crime lab. What can I do for you?"

"I actually came to ask you the same question." She gave him a slight smile, and letting go of his hand, offered him her business card, "And I believe you need a formal identification."

His eyebrows raised slightly as he took the business card she offered. He would also admit that he had not expected to be asked what could be done for him. It certainly made things easier, and he felt a fractional relaxation of the muscles in his shoulders.

Ushering her along the corridor towards his office, Mac decided that this was an opportunity to be open with each other, and speak honestly about the position they had both been placed in with this case.

"I think there are things we can do for each other, Miss Hunt." He told her as they entered his office, and he indicated she take a seat.

An appraising look met him as he sat down opposite her, "I get the feeling that we're both under the same kind of pressure here, so it would make sense to be as helpful as possible to each other. Do you agree?"

"I do." He answered with a wry smile, "And I have to add, it's refreshing to hear that. In other dealings with the diplomatic service, there's been far more reluctance to deal with the NYPD."

The woman nodded, "I can understand that, we walk a fine line, and an incident like this can be difficult all round. Let me be clear here; I don't see the need for any withholding of information that will help find whoever killed Michael. As far as I'm concerned, I care less about the fact that he was a diplomat, than for the fact that he was a friend of mine, and a husband and father."

Mac looked at the woman in front of him, and for a moment caught a glimpse of the person behind the official exterior. He appreciated her laying her cards on the table, and reciprocated with his own concerns, "Miss Hunt, you have the resources of the NYPD working on this case, what we need in return is cooperation with the investigation."

"You have my assurance of that." Blue eyes met his, and Mac saw the truth of what she said in them. A glint came into them then, "And please, Dectective, I think we can drop a few of the formalities here. Make it Natalia, please."

"Natalia it is then, and make it Mac, rather than Detective, if we're going to be working on the same side."

"If the same side is finding Michael's killer, then I'm right there next to you." There was a conviction and determination in her words that caused Mac to wonder suddenly about what lay behind them. There would be time for discovering that later, however. At the present time, they had an identification to make.

"Natalia..." He began.

"I know what you need me to do." She stood up, suddenly every inch the official, "It was why I came in the first place. If it's convenient, I'd like to see Michael's body. I know it needs formal identification."

Mac nodded, "If you're agreeable to doing so, then I'll take you down to the morgue."

A look of pain flashed across her eyes, but she answered steadily, "It's the least I can do for him. He was a good man, and I'm more than sorry that this has happened to him. I want whoever did this caught as soon as possible."

"I can assure you, I want the same thing, and my team are the best at what they do." Mac affirmed as he led the way out of his office and down the corridor.

-----

Flack left the elevator and headed for Mac's office, but he had barely taken a few steps when Sheldon Hawkes left the staircase and emerged in front of him.

"Hey, Doc." Flack greeted him in a manner which was more bright than he felt; however, seeing the doctor looking so fit and well again after almost losing his life on that fateful day in May was a lift to his mood. "How are things? How you doing?"

Hawkes gave him a quick smile, "Pretty good. Anxious to get back to work full time. You know there's only so much sitting around a man can do."

"I agree with you there." He paused for a moment, and then opened up a little more with something he rarely talked about, "I know what it was like after the bombing, almost sent me stir crazy all that time in the hospital, then afterwards, with everyone fussing over me. Felt like I was losing it some days."

Hawkes looked at him with understanding in his face, "Yeah, you're pretty much describing how it's felt the last couple months."

Feeling awkward about discussing himself any further though, Flack nodded briefly before continuing with a safer topic of conversation, "So what's Mac throwing at you for your first full day back?"

"What he's throwing at all of us." They continued walking down the corridor as Hawkes answered, "The UN case. I'm on my way to go over the CCTV footage from the street and garage with Adam."

"Good luck with that."

"Thanks, I'll let you know what I come up with."

"Sure."

Flack agreed before Hawkes pulled up outside the door to the AV room. Both men stood uneasily staring around them, avoiding each other's eyes for a moment, and Flack felt himself weighing up what to say next. Neither he and Hawkes had been particularly chatty in the past, but it was clear that the events of the day Jess had been killed were on their minds.

"Don-" Flack jerked his head up, caught off-guard; the Doc rarely used his first name, and with it, he took a guess at what was coming. Hawkes looked around uncomfortably, catching his eye briefly before he fixed his gaze near the floor, "How are _you_ doing? After Jess's death I mean... We know how much she meant you, that things had developed between you. I know Stella was close to her, and she's found it tough, but your relationship was different..."

Flack's jaw clenched, and he fought the familiar surge of loss. Even now, three months after her death, it only took her name and a sympathetic look and tears threatened behind his eyes and his chest tightened with grief. Before he could be overwhelmed, he interrupted Hawkes.

"I'm good. Yeah, I'm okay."

It was a lie. If he admitted to Hawkes even one of the things that kept him awake at night and haunted him during the day he would lose it. And Don Flack junior didn't do weak. At least not when anyone was around to see it. The nights in his apartment when his bed was empty and every shadow assumed her shape, then he fell to pieces. That was when the tears broke the dam he built during the day.

He looked away from Hawkes, blinking furiously as the other man continued speaking in a soft voice, "Danny says you haven't been out much, that you've even given your YMCA kids a wide berth."

He cleared his throat, and scrubbed his face with his hands, "Yeah, I've been picking up extra shifts, covering for a couple of the guys. Doesn't leave a lot of time for other stuff.…"

He knew without a doubt that Hawkes saw right through his carefully constructed facade, and decided he had to leave to retain any iota of control, "Listen, I gotta go. I've gotta talk to Mac about the case. I'll see you round Doc. And, uh,, thanks, for asking."

"Any time."

As Flack turned to leave, Hawkes's last few words were a near-fatal blow to his control, "Look after yourself, Don."

------

Hawkes watched Flack as he strode away. He could tell the detective was far from "good" as he put it, and that there would be a major melt down if things weren't addressed soon. Danny was right to be concerned; his friend had not allowed himself time to grieve properly and the cracks were starting to show. They had all been through it, Hawkes knew, having shared some of the grief of his friends when they had come to visit him; it was Stella who had most recently talked to him about it when her normally upbeat personality had finally caved in, leaving her in tears. It had happened when she had called round to take him out to lunch; as he had mentioned how he and Jess had worked a case in the same area as the cafe they were sitting in, Stella's face had crumpled and tears that were rarely seen from her spilled from her eyes. In a rush of empathy, he had moved to her side and enveloped her in a hug. Then they had cried together, uncaring of the wondering looks from the other customers.

Flack, however, was proving to be a tough nut to crack, and Hawkes was despairing of being able to help him. He had isolated himself from his friends and refused to discuss Jess with anyone. According to Mac, he'd made all the right noises to the department shrink at the compulsory evaluation 3 months before, but no one was in any doubt that the dam would one day come crashing down and along with it their friend and co-worker. And he would crash hard. They could not let that happen, something had to be done. As he entered the AV lab, Hawkes decided, with a sudden spark of inspiration, that a word in Danny's ear about a boy's night out would not be out of order as a starting point to help their friend.

* * *

_We hope you enjoyed it - please review and let us know! Thank you very much, Lily and Forest_


	3. Keeping Tabs

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who is reading this and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! Plenty of action and drama coming up, and for all of you Smacked fans out there this one is for you._

**Chapter 3 -** **Keeping Tabs**

Day: 1  
Opening Scene: Crime Lab  
Time of Day: Early Evening  
Month: Early September  
Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate

* * *

Lindsay sighed as she looked over the items spread in front of her; a now empty wallet and the credit cards and cash it had previously contained, along with a Delegation issued ID card belonging to Michael Stratton, and a small heap of clothing. She and Adam had worked all afternoon processing the items, and had come up with very little. She felt defeated and exhausted, and all she wanted to do now was go home and pick Lucy up for a cuddle. Her body sagged as she rested her elbows on the table, and she didn't even notice the groan that heaved out of her, until a voice spoke from behind her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." She sighed, "I'm okay. Great. I'm just feeling the effects of another night of four hours sleep."

A wry smile crept onto her lips as she faced Adam, who screwed up his face at her words. "Four hours? Man. That's tough. What's up? Is Lucy okay?"

"Oh she's great, wants to be up and playing with Mommy and Daddy at all hours of the night, that's the problem. And I think she's about to cut her first tooth."

Adam grinned, "Wow, teeth already? Can't believe she's growing up so fast."

"Neither can I." Lindsay shook her head, and felt a sudden lump in her throat at the thought of her daughter. Smiling hurriedly and pushing past Adam, she tried to suppress the squeak in her voice, "Uh, were you going to ask me something?"

"Did you find anything else on his clothing?"

She shook her head, seizing the opportunity to focus her mind back on her work, "Nothing more than the couple of fibres we pulled earlier. There isn't much to go on. Did you get anywhere matching up the marks on the body from the knife hilt?"

Adam winced apologetically, "Not as such, working on it though. I'll keep going." He shifted his feet, and then looked at her with an embarrassed expression, "Hey, I, er, know this maybe isn't my place to say so, but you should go home. I know this was supposed to be your day off, and I know you got things planned for this evening... And I'm guessing you're wanting to go pick up Lucy, so..."

Lindsay felt tears pricking at the back of her eyelids, even as a smile crossed her face at his thoughtfulness, "It's not out of place, I appreciate it, Adam. Yeah, you got it about right, but..."

He grinned, looking reassured and bolder, "No buts then. I can finish off here, it won't need two of us. I'm out with Danny, Flack and Hawkes, but not until later. Go pick up Lucy and give her a cuddle from her Uncle Adam."

"Okay, I'll go. Guess I'm not concentrating much here at the moment... Thanks, Adam." Under his gaze, she hug up her lab coat and made her escape from the room.

------

Stella pushed the door to Mac's office open, and paused in the doorway, a small smile on her face, "Hey. You talk to Sid yet?"

He looked up and the frown that was creasing his face smoothed a little, causing Stella's smile to soften. She had seen him frown too often recently, and any chance to take some of the worry from him, she seized at every opportunity. He did not smile enough, making the occasions he did even more important. And making her even more determined to increase them.

Since Angell's death though, the lines on her friends' faces, and on her own had increased. It had been hard; even harder than she realised. For a moment, as Mac shuffled together piles of papers he had been studying, Stella remembered what she had said to him, shortly before leaving to go to the bar to drink to Angell's name - that the next few days would be tough. She had laughed bitterly at her words several times since then. A few difficult days, she had imagined. But with the attack on them all at the bar, and the few days when they thought they might lose Sheldon Hawkes as well as Jessica Angell, it had been tougher than any of them could have imagined.

She still suffered nightmares, and she knew she wasn't the only one. It was the sound that haunted her. The thudding of the bullets and the shriek of the glass as it fractured, shattered and seemed to tornado around them.

As it happened, she had been speaking, the words long forgotten now. The car she did remember, catching sight of it out of the corner of her eye, and then the next thing, chaos. Glass had exploded around her, then she was dropping to the floor, and Lindsay was screaming.

For seconds she had lain there, stunned, her head ringing with the sound of bullets, her heart pounding in terror. Not afraid for herself, but for her friends; for Mac, Don, Lindsay, Danny...

Slowly, slowly, the glass had settled, the bullets had stopped and she had opened her eyes. Mac was struggling to his feet beside her, his eyes meeting hers, then his hand had reached for her, helping her to her feet. Brushing some of the glass out of her hair, and wiping away the blood from where a piece of it had cut her scalp. They had all stood up, one by one. All of them except Sheldon...

"Stella?" Mac was looking at her, an expectant gaze in his eyes, "Everything okay?"

She smiled brightly, not wanting to add to his worries, "Fine. Just thinking... So, what did you get from Sid?" As he looked at her for a second longer, she met his gaze, and then lifted her shoulders slightly accepting the inevitable; he had guessed her thoughts. "I was thinking about the bar, after seeing Hawkes today, it got me remembering..." She admitted, knowing she didn't have to give any more details than that.

He nodded, "We all will be for a long time to come. Sheldon especially." Then his eyebrows drew together, "Weren't you supposed to be out with Lindsay tonight?"

She shrugged, "Leaving in a few minutes, but I don't imagine I'll stay long. There's a bunch of her friends going who I don't really know, so..."

"You should go and enjoy yourself, you don't do that enough."

His comment made her eyebrows raise in amusement, "Says the man who spends more than half his life in his workplace!"

"More often than not, kept company by you." He countered.

"Yeah, well, someone's got to keep an eye on you, Mac. Make sure you aren't working yourself to the bone." Smiling warmly at him, Stella moved further into the room and perched herself on the corner of the desk, "So fill me in on what Sid had to say, and then we can both get out of here."

With a wry look on his face, he handed over the papers he had been reading, "Most of it's in here. Preliminary results are that our vic, Michael Stratton, died as a result of a stab wound which penetrated his liver and caused him to bleed out internally. Weapon used was a thin blade, possibly something like a knitting needle, or a skewer, according to Sid."

"So the knife wounds weren't the COD?" Stella looked up in surprise, and Mac shook his head.

"Not the primary cause of death."

She frowned, her mind processing the information, "You think whoever stabbed him the second time knew about the first?"

"A cover up?"

Her fingers drummed lightly against the paper, "Maybe... Or maybe he had more than one person who wanted him dead."

"Or someone who made more than one attempt?"

She nodded slowly, "Could be our killer thought they hadn't succeeded the first time, and decided to finish off the job."

Mac sat back with a frown, and rested his chin on his steepled fingers, "Whatever the reasons, we need to identify the murder weapon. Could be something distinctive."

"That leads us to our killer. Did we get much from the scene?"

"Not a whole lot. I had Lindsay and Adam going through what evidence there was earlier and Hawkes working on the CCTV."

"They find much?"

He shook his head and Stella realised then how tired he was as he attempted to suppress a yawn, and decided to press him on it.

"Mac, go home. There's nothing more we can do tonight, and you need sleep to function on this one. I know you've got people on your back about this..."

He got up from his chair, and shoved it back under the desk with a sigh, "Including Flack, who's apparently taken an instant dislike to the woman with the British Delegation who's liaising with us."

It was Stella's turn to frown as she watched him pace to the window, "What's the issue?"

"Clash of personalities, far as I can tell." He turned back to her and quirked his eyebrows, "I met her myself earlier, and she actually offered to be as much help to us as she can."

"So what's Flack's problem with her?" Stella set the papers she was holding down in her lap.

"Seems he felt she was trying to obstruct the investigation."

"And you don't think that."

"No I don't." He gave her a tired smile, "In fact, she offered to help us in whatever way she could. As I said, clash of personalities. It struck me that they're actually kind of similar, I'd say that with it being a diplomatic case it's got everyone on edge and she's in a position of authority. The two of them laid their cards out and neither conceded to the other, I'm guessing too, that he hasn't met someone like her since Jess."

"A strong woman who's challenged him? It might do Don good to have something or someone outside the job to get him feeling something. Someone needs to make him realise how much he's cut himself off from everything; his friends, his emotions..."

"It's got to be him that ultimately brings himself back to all of that, Stell, we can only give him a push in the right direction." Mac's voice held the hint of a warning, which Stella acknowledged with a nod. Then she gave him a searching look.

"I know you know that better than most. And I'm not interfering, Mac; I'm worried about him, so's Danny."

Mac ran a hand through his hair, "I'm aware of that, and I'm concerned about him too. But you know as well as I do how he works; push him too hard to do something, and you push him further away. As I said, he's got to come to things at his own pace. That's not to say we do nothing to help, but you've got to remember, it's only been a few months, he's only just beginning to grieve."

Stella dipped her head, and suddenly felt the unpleasant burn of tears in her eyes, "I know. I just..."

Mac's hand touched her shoulder, and she shook her head, dashing a hand across her eyes, "I don't want to see him fall any further apart. If that happens, he's not the only one that will; he'll take Danny down with him, and if Danny falls..."

"Lindsay falls."

She nodded, "Everyone falls together."

Mac's voice was gentle, "But that also means we stand together as well, and hold each other together."

His hand was still on her shoulder, and she crossed hers over her chest to place it over his. "I know that too." They were quiet together, both sharing thoughts.

"You should go to Lindsay's." Mac said after a moment, his eyes not leaving her, "She might be needing you herself."

Stella sighed, and realised he was right as she remembered the pleading look in the younger woman's eyes when she had made the invitation earlier in the day, "I guess so." Standing up, she turned with a smile to her friend, "But I go on one condition. You promise to leave here as well."

"I will, in an hour or so. Will that satisfy you?" He lifted his eyebrows and she folded her arms across her chest.

"Not entirely... I'm calling you in two hour's time. If you're still here..."

"I won't be."

"... Then I am personally coming to drag your ass out of here."

With the lightening of the mood, Mac's face opened into a smirk, and for a fleeting moment, Stella imagined she saw a glint of anticipation in his eyes. She grinned to herself as she turned to saunter out of his office.

"And no staying behind just to have me do that..."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Stella." He called after her as she swung down the corridor towards the elevator.

"We'll see about that..." She laughed softly to herself. When she stepped into the elevator and turned around just before the doors closed, she saw he was still watching her with an enigmatic smile on his face. Keeping her from slipping into darker worries about Flack, the image of his smile stayed in her mind the whole journey to the Messers' apartment.

-----

"Hey, Flack! You made it, good to see you, buddy." Danny hailed his friend with no small measure of relief, and surprise. The invitation for drinks, after a heads up from Hawkes earlier in the day, had been made with the expectation that Flack would refuse. However, with his appearance, he was pleased to have been proved wrong.

He shifted his stool along, making room for Don, who took the one beside him and stretched out his long legs with a sigh.

"What can I get you?" Danny asked, setting his own bottle down on the bar and reaching into his jeans for his wallet, "Usual?"

"Sure, yeah." Flack responded in a monotone, "Can't stay for long."

Danny squinted at him, "Why not? Come on, man; how long's it been since we were out together for a few beers? Months." He shifted a little on one foot, feeling as if he was declaring a battle, "You may not believe it, but I've missed your company. Being a married man and father has its advantages, but it means less time hanging out and socialising. And seeing as I've left Lucy with Lindsay and her friends for an evening of baby adoration, I'm thinking we should make the most of it. There's a game on, we can hang out, talk about stuff, play pool. Whatever you want. The Doc and Adam have promised to show up later." He came to a halt and deflated inside as Flack's stare met him.

"You got this all planned, huh?"

Danny persevered, even in the face of Flack's sarcasm, "It was a spur of the moment thing, we made a few plans, that's all. So you'll force yourself to put up with our company for a few hours?" Giving Flack a nudge to the shoulder, he forced a smile onto his face, feeling himself losing the fight already.

The response he got was another shrug, and Flack's eyes meeting his momentarily, "Are you giving me a choice?"

"The choice between spending quality time with myself, and the other guys, or missing out on an evening of good company and beer. Up to you, Flack."

The beginnings of a grin appeared unexpectedly on his friend's face, and Danny rejoiced at the sight of it. He gave Flack a friendly shove as he hopped off the stool and moved towards the end of the bar, where the bartender was polishing a glass, "Knew you'd see sense. Be right back." He called over his shoulder..

The place was quiet, not yet filled up with patrons as the football game was not due to start for another couple of hours, so in a few minutes, Danny was back beside his friend, knocking his bottle against Flack's glass of Guinness. They sat in silence whilst they sipped their drinks, and Danny pondered his next words. Glancing sideways at Flack, he decided to take the plunge. With a smack of his lips, and the feel of beer rising in his throat with anxiety, he spoke.

"So... How you been? Haven't had much chance to talk last few weeks, or months. Things kind of took over us I guess. You doing okay?"

"Peachy." Flack took another swig and set the glass down hard, wiping his mouth, "Yeah, great. Keeping busy. Got a few extra shifts, you know."

Danny nodded, desperately wishing Lindsay or Stella, or even Mac was with them. He had a feeling they would be so much better at this than he was, "That's great, man. Good to know. But... You sure you're not kind of, you know, avoiding things, taking on all these extra shifts? I know you've cut back on the time with your kids at the Y, and..."

Flack turned to him and Danny found his voice dying away under his stare, and the coldness in his eyes, "You keeping tabs on me, Messer?"

The use of his last name, and the hard tone that lacked the usual friendship beneath it, made Danny swallow a mouthful of beer too fast and cough, "No... No, not that at all. Just something I'd noticed."

"Something you told Hawkes about too?"

Danny gulped, and tasted the sourness of the beer in his mouth, "Might have mentioned it to him. Only in a passing conversation. He was worried about you."

"So my shifts at work are a concern of all you CSIs?"

The challenge and sarcasm in Flack's voice was making Danny squirm, and he glanced at the door of the bar, praying for the Doc and Adam to appear and throw him a lifeline, "You're making too big a deal out of this, man. It was a conversation, not gossip, okay? And I'm not the only one who's concerned about you cutting yourself off from your friends, Mac and Stella have mentioned it, Lindsay as well, some of the guys at the precinct..."

When the storm clouds appeared in Flack's face, Danny realised that he had waded in too far and too fast; his voice died away, waiting for the reaction to lightning strike him. It was not what he expected though. Everything seemed to drop to a dead hush as in slow motion the glass in Flack's hand came down and clunked on the bar, a drop splashing out of the top. Danny watched it fall, his eyes sliding to the surface, and then rising to his friend's face. A face that was carved in anger.

"Don..."

Without a word, Flack stood up, pulled a bill out of his wallet and placed it on the table. "Listen, man..." Danny tried desperately to find the right thing to say. And failed. The look on Flack's face killed his words stone dead.

Finally he spoke, "What I do is my business. I don't want you or Hawkes, or anyone else I work with prying into what shifts and what activities I choose, or don't choose to do. You're sounding like the department shrink, and I don't want to hear that kind of crap, got it? Forget the beer and the game, I didn't come out tonight to be interrogated. I'm beat, I'm going home, I'll see you round."

He turned on his heel, and walked away. Danny struggled to get up from his seat and push through the people who seemed to have suddenly filled up the bar and the space in between them. It was too late though. Flack was already striding out of the door. Smacking the bar hard with his fist, making the bottles and glasses jump, Danny cursed in frustration.

"Dammit!"

He grabbed his beer and flopped back down on his stool, beating himself up mentally. So caught up with running over what he should and should not have said to his friend, he didn't hear his colleagues approach, until Hawkes' voice made him jerk the bottle against his teeth.

"Danny. Where's Flack?"

Adam appeared behind the Doc's shoulder, concern on his face, "You all right, man?"

His head dropped into his hands, before he looked up at them, his fingers dragging his skin down, "No. No I'm not all right. Neither is Flack, and judging by the look on his face as he walked out on me, I've made things even worse."

_

* * *

_

We hope you enjoyed it - please review and let us know! Thank you very much, Lily and Forest


	4. Drinking with the enemy

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 wouldn't have happened, but it did so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt. _

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! Plenty of action and drama coming up, as well as time with our favourite pairings :D _

_Thanks also for the alerts and favourites. Please check out our individual stories too - 'Beacons of Home' and 'Once upon a time in the Old West'._

**Chapter 4 - Drinking with the Enemy**

Day: 1

Opening Scene: Unknown Location

Time of Day: Early Evening

Month: Early September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate

* * *

A nondescript room in a nondescript building. Sparsely furnished with an eclectic group of chairs and a table. Four occupied chairs; three men, one woman. Four china cups on the table, and the smell of coffee and stale cigarettes in the air.

One man picked up a cup from the table, stared at the contents, and drained the last dregs from inside.

He looked round at his companions, "We have a problem. We got a team of detectives investigating Stratton's death, too closely for my liking. We need suggestions. There's too much at stake here to let a few cops screw things up at this stage."

The woman spread her hand in front of her and tilted it, examining her purple fingernails in the slant of light through the high window, "So we remove the problem."

A second man spoke in a rough southern drawl, "How d'you suggest we do that, sugar?"

A baleful look was sent his way, "First, Dirk, don't call me sugar, I don't do sweetness, _darling_. And second, as Carson here has pointed out." "We have a few cops. Emphasis on the _few_. So it shouldn't be too difficult to remove them from the equation, especially as we know who they are."

Carson grinned, and tipped back in his chair, resting his foot on the edge of the table, "Remove... Like it. We talking permanent removal, or temporary?"

Deena shrugged, "Depends on the circumstances. If required, then yes, we remove them permanently. However, for now, a temporary solution might solve the problem."

"So tell us what you got brewing in that pretty little head of yours." Dirk leered at her.

A dangerous look flashed across her face, but before he could even take a breath, his sugar-sweet smile vanished as she moved behind him, and jerked his head back, her other arm across his throat, a knife that seemed to have appeared from nowhere pressed its point under his ear.

"I told you, _darling_, I don't do sweet, or pretty. Try anything else with me, and you'll find out just what I can brew up in my _pretty little head_ for people who cause me a problem. Got that?"

"Yeah... yeah, you made... your point." He choked, his face stippling purple. For a few more seconds, she held her arm in place, and then released him, patting him on the shoulder as she took her seat again. The knife disappeared once more. Dirk wiped his fingers across the small trickle of blood spreading down towards his collar.

"Anyone else want to comment?" She challenged. Heads shook in denial, and a coffee cup rattled on the table.

"Pleased to hear it."

The third man spoke finally, running his finger round his collar as he did so, "You have an idea?"

Her foot tapped against the floor, "I have an idea, Ali. Which is more than can be said for you most times."

Watching her with a small smirk on his lips, Carson adjusted his cup in its saucer, "Never known Deena to be lacking in ideas."

She threw him a smile, "Seems to me we need to do something to get their attention and focus it on other matters. We also need to weaken them."

Looks were exchanged amongst the group, and unspoken communication passed between them.

Carson finally broke the silence, "The best way to weaken them is to take away what holds them together."

"Or in this case, _who_ holds them together." The woman corrected him, "I think we need to give Detective Taylor and his team something to think about."

-----

Danny dropped his keys on the table by the door and tossed his jacket over the back of a chair before dropping onto the couch with a huge sigh and rubbing the back of his neck. The apartment was dark and quiet, except for the sliver of light coming from their bedroom and Lindsay's soft tones singing to their daughter. He continued to sit in the dark until she came to him.

"Danny?" She queried leaving the bedroom. She knew he was there and reached over him for the lamp switch. He caught her hand and stopped her.

"Leave it off."

"Danny, what's wrong? You're sitting in the dark."

"You see Hawkes today? He's looking pretty good. Course Mac did his usual and kept him in the lab looking at CCTV footage for this new case. ... but then you know that, ... sorry your day off got busted."

"It's a tough case ... You're in early, thought you said it was a boy's night out."

"It didn't work out." Danny answered, his tone of voice conveying more to her than his actual words.

"Oh... Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just got a lot of stuff on my mind. Don't worry about it."

"Are you hungry? I could heat you up something."

"No.... How are you? Thought the house would be full of women, it's the first time you've talked about having people over."

"I tried, I really did, but it just wasn't the same, you know. Not like the night Stella threw me the baby shower. Angell came to that as well. It was just so much fun then, and tonight it felt all wrong. ... I may not have known her that well, but she was a good person and I missed her, we all did. No one was really in the mood." As she spoke Lindsay had taken up residence on the couch and now snuggled into Danny's side, he draped his arm over her shoulder. "Did Flack show up?"

"You know what we had planned?"

"I think we all know what you and Hawkes planned and Stella might have mentioned something before she left to drag Mac away from the lab. ... Did you talk to him?"

"I tried Linds, I really did, but I don't know, I think I might just have made everything a whole lot worse."

"Danny!" She hissed. "What did you do?"

"I asked how he was doing, you know trying to have a conversation with the guy. ... I pushed too hard, he stormed out. I swear he was going to put his fist through my face!"

"These things take time Danny, he'll come around when he's ready. For now all you can do is be there waiting when he is."

Danny turned his head and tried to look down at her. "Could've told me that earlier."

"Would you have listened?"

"Probably not. .... I don't know Linds, I've never seen him like this, it's like- ..."

Lindsay leaned up and planted a gentle kiss on his lips, silencing the tirade she knew would follow, she had already heard it countless times before. "You can't do anything else tonight. What you can do is go see your daughter, she was still awake a few minutes ago, like she's waiting for her Daddy to come home."

Danny sighed heavily. "I should, huh?" He felt Lindsay nod against him. "Then a few minutes with her Daddy is what my baby girl is going to get."

He levered himself off the couch pulling Lindsay with him, before heading alone to the bedroom.

Lindsay found him sometime later asleep on their bed with their daughter asleep on his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around her. She allowed herself a small smile. She loved seeing the brash New Yorker's fatherly side, and now that the danger from Dunbrook and his cronies was past the team were all safe again, it allowed the new parents to concentrate on their young daughter and the life ahead of them. Having Lucy around during those dark days in May had been what held her and Danny together and even gave Stella and Mac a few light moments, when she had taken them up on their offer to babysit. She was enjoying being a Mom and a wife and wouldn't change it for the world.

-----

Don approached the bar and sank into a stool at the end away from the jukebox which was thumping out some 80s eclectic mix. He rubbed his hand over his chin and ordered a stiff drink, demanding the bartender leave the bottle. It had been a while since Sam had beat his ass over drinking himself stupid every night, saying she didn't want him ending up where she had been, and still was to some degree. Alcoholism isn't something you get over in one night. The siblings had reconciled a few days after Flack had followed her to that dingy little room and heard her pour her heart out to complete strangers. Whatever Sam thought though tonight he needed to forget everything ... and the answer currently sat at the bottom of the bottle of Irish Whiskey that was placed in front of him. He was tired, ... he was more than tired, he just wanted to curl up and sleep forever. But that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, unless he did something drastic, and he wasn't courageous enough for that. Nearly four months and he was still haunted by her in his dreams, still haunted by the sympathetic looks and murmured words of comfort. Comfort? Whatever they said it wasn't comfort, all it did was to serve as yet another reminder that she wasn't there anymore, that a part of him was missing.

As he raised the glass to his lips he looked in the mirror behind the bar and found his eyes drawn to a group of patrons at a table somewhere behind him. The sound was what drew him first, the crisp tones of a British female voice. He shook his head trying to place where he had heard it. Once his eyes zoned in further he groaned, of all the places to be he had to find the same one where her and her friends were holding court. He couldn't help hearing the toast she raised to their fallen colleague and friend. If he was in his own right mind he may have detected the waver in her voice as she spoke, but all he heard was the obnoxious tone she had taken with him that morning. He lifted the glass again and took a long draught of the amber liquid, wallowing in the sting in his throat as he swallowed.

Some time must have passed because the bar was more crowded and he spilt some of his drink as someone nudged him while they squeezed up to the bar to attract the keeper's attention.

"Sorry." She half shouted over the noise. His glass hit the counter hard as he put it down and he turned and glared at her, anyone else he would have let it go, but for her, she pissed him off beyond the extremes. Again in his right mind it would never happen, but now with the way he felt even the slightest provocation from her was enough to shatter his fragile temper. She tried to apologise. "Detective Flack, I'm sorry I didn't see you there."

"So now you do, what's with you today? You still can't have the investigation." He practically hissed at her, ignoring the apology for the spilt drink.

"You think that's why I'm here? That I followed you around to see what you're doing? Give me a break, I've got my job to do I'm more than happy to let you do yours." She snapped at him in response to his antagonistic stance. Then she looked at the bottle then at him again, he had obviously just come from work, still wearing his suit, although the jacket had been discarded. His tie was hanging loose and crooked and he wore a look that bordered between anger and indifference, he looked troubled. She softened her tone. "We're here to toast Michael, our offices are not far, this is our usual hangout. .... It looks like you have your own answers to find." She commented nodding at the glass and bottle on the counter. "You're welcome to join us."

"I came for a quiet drink not to play nice and go drinking with the enemy."

"Enemy? Detective you have a strange view of my role." She could have continued, but the disgusted look he gave her made her change her mind. "... fine! You want to drink yourself to oblivion go ahead, I won't interrupt you further." She finished then turned to the bar tender and placed her order. As she paid she also withdrew a card from her handbag and pushed it across the counter to Flack, "If you would like to meet and for me to explain my role in more detail, give me a call." She paused a moment with her fingers on the card then took it back grabbed a pen and scribbled a number on the back. "If you don't want to make it official, I'm happy to meet somewhere outside the office, you've got my home number too." She added then pushed the card back to him, picked up the tray of drinks and walked away.

Flack watched her in the mirror as he absent-mindedly picked up the card, shoved it in his shirt pocket and picked up the glass again.

Several hours passed and the bar had thinned out a little. The bartender was clearing glasses at Natalia's table, where she was sitting alone at that moment; he hovered as he debated a point with himself then he looked at her cautiously. "Excuse me, do you know the guy at the bar, I saw you talking earlier?"

"Not really, why?"

"He's wasted, I'm surprised he's still sat on that stool. You know anyone who could take him home or should I pour him into a cab?"

"Mickey! What are you suggesting?" She chided gently.

"You're single and he's not wearing a ring, looks like he could use a friend."

"Mickey, quit trying to pair me up with every apparent single man who walks in here. ... You heard about Michael?" She sighed, changing the subject.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Any idea what happened?"

"Not yet it's in the hands of NYPD. ... Actually your guy over there, he's the detective working the case. I met him this morning."

"A cop? It probably won't be a good idea then if I was to call 911 and have them take him in and sober him up."

"Probably not." Natalia thought for a moment, then rummaged in her bag and pulled out a business card. "But I may have a solution, give me 5 minutes, ... you really think he needs someone?"

"He stands up, he'll end up on his ass and sleeping on my floor tonight, not to mention the major hangover he'll be sporting tomorrow."

"Alright, I'll see what I can do, no promises."

"Fair enough."

Mickey picked up the tray of empty glasses and walked away. Natalia stood watching the detective for a few moments then pulled out her phone and moved to a quiet corner of the bar and dialled the number on the business card she had been given earlier.

-----

Mac finished the call he had just received and paused before looking at Stella. She had followed his half of the conversation and the look of concern on her face had deepened as the call progressed. Mac was sure it probably mirrored his own expression.

"What's up, Mac?" She asked putting down her glass.

"It's Flack, he's alone in a bar near the UN and he's drunk himself through most of a bottle of pure Irish Whiskey. Someone needs to take him home." Mac explained, thankful for the peace and quiet in the tiny bar where they had ended up after she found him still working in the lab. It meant he could answer her in a low voice without the possibility of anyone overhearing them.

"So how come they called you?"

"The bar didn't, it was Natalia Hunt. The British liaison officer, she's been in the same place with her friends. She doesn't want to get him in trouble."

"So we go pick him up?"

"I'll do it. You go home, tomorrow's going to be worse than today, at least one of us should be ready for it."

"Are you ready to deal with a drunken Flack all by yourself?"

"I'm a big boy Stella, I think I can cope."

Stella raked her eyes over Mac and grinned at him. "Mac Taylor! I think that's far too much information!" For an instant the comment had seemed so inappropriate to him, but her mock surprise served to lighten the moment as a pink flush edged onto his cheeks. Before he could stop himself, he was answering in kind, and taking their playful banter into unexplored territory.

"Stella Bonasera, you can have a dirty mind. ... Ever thought about putting it to good use?"

This time it was Stella's turn to blush at the suggestion by her long term partner, friend and boss. "What I might want or not want with you Mac Taylor will not resolve the immediate issue here... We need to get Flack."

"You sure you want to come?" He kept the smile on his face, and enjoyed the tingle which rippled across his skin that her reply had given him. And he realised that this was a conversation he would like to continue at a future date; one that was not too far into the future.

"I'm coming with you. I'm guessing you and he haven't talked anything other than work in a long time. ... You thought of talking to him about Claire? ... I'm not saying you should do it tonight, but maybe it will do something for both of you. Share memories of those who are dear to you." Mac was silent for a moment and Stella waited.

"Different circumstances, I don't know that he's ready to hear what I would say."

"You both lost someone suddenly in violent conditions, it's a place to start. Mac, I don't want to open up old wounds for you, but you're the only one that knows what he's going through."

Mac looked at her sombrely as the earnest expression on her face deepened. Maybe she had a point. Right now the detective had pushed them all away, more than once telling Danny or the guys he worked with that they had no idea what he was feeling. He hadn't tried it with Mac, but then they hadn't talked about it since that day at Jessica Angell's funeral, when he had offered him a beer and a listening ear if he ever wanted to talk.

"I'll think about it." He finally conceded. Flack was stubborn and self reliant, except this time that wasn't going to be good for him. Mac had learned that pretty quickly after Claire, and although he still had days when he missed her like hell and yearned to run his fingers through her hair and touch her again just once more, he was grateful for the presence and friendship of the woman who now sat with him. Although he had never told her in so many words, he knew he owed a big part of his continuing existence to her. "We'd better get out of here and let Ms Hunt off the hook." He added finally, realising that now was not the time to be dwelling on his own circumstances. Or on what he should or should not say to Stella.

With a look of understanding, Stella nodded and gathered her jacket as they moved out of the booth where they had been sitting. Both of them, Mac realised, apprehensive as to what they might find when they reached Flack.

-----

Mickey watched the Brits leave the bar. Several had tried to dislodge Natalia, but she had resolutely insisted she was leaving herself soon and would be fine. In the end no one stood up to her as they all bid her goodnight and left her to her thoughts. She collected her things and walked over to the juke box and stood looking at the selection. The place was virtually empty now and Mickey had already called last orders, so the few patrons left were preparing to make their own way home. He ran his cloth across the bar gradually working his way towards the detective. He reached out to take the remains of the Whiskey bottle, but Flack stopped him.

"Leaf it." Flack slurred. Mickey glanced at Natalia who had looked up at the sound. She shrugged. How was she supposed to know what to do? She had only just met the guy now she was playing baby sitter while someone came to get him. The encounters with him so far had been less than friendly, so how did Mickey expect her to know if it was a good idea to take away the bottle? She turned back to the juke box and pushed some buttons, then she took a few steps to the bar and dropped onto a stool a couple away from Flack.

"Mickey, you still got any coffee?"

"Sure, white and sugar right?"

"You remembered?"

Mickey grinned at her as he deposited the mug in front of her then poured in the hot liquid. Replacing the coffee pot he pushed a milk jug and sugar bowl to her. "I ain't ever seen you drink more than a couple a glasses of wine before you hit the coffee. I keep it special just for you."

While the British woman was pre-occupied, Flack watched her, well the two of her he could see out of the corner of his eye. Then the music began to invade his senses. For a moment he tried to make out what it was, then he wished he hadn't. It was a song he and Jess had both liked and laughed over, remembering high school dances where they had first heard it played. It triggered the memories and it all came rushing back; her smile, her hair, how good she looked in his shirt, how-. He crashed the glass down on the counter trying to block out the sound.

Natalia looked up, the breeze from the door attracted her attention and she looked around. She waved at Mac as he entered followed by a tall woman with dark curly hair. Mac waved back and nodded before moving to Flack's side. The woman walked over to Natalia and shook hands.

"Stella Bonasera, you must be Natalia. ... Has he said anything?"

"Nothing to me worth repeating. ... Looks like he could use a friend though."

"We know, but he's stubborn."

"Good luck with him then, he seems set to stay and finish the bottle."

"Don't worry, Mac's just as stubborn. ... Thanks for this, you didn't have to."

"I need something good to come out of today. Detective Flack and I didn't exactly see eye to eye this morning, or tonight either for that matter, but I don't want anyone to get hurt. ... I hate to call the cavalry and run, but I've got a few things to do. Will he be OK?"

"He'll have one hell of a hangover, but he'll get over it." Natalia gathered her things wished everyone a good night and headed for the door. As she left she heard Stella's voice begin to chastise Flack as if he was a spoiled child.

* * *

_Please review and let us know what you think! We'd love to know. Reviews help fuel the writing process, and we'll try and post the next chapter soon. Thank you, lily and Forest_


	5. The Bigger Picture

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! Plenty more action and drama coming up, as well as time with our favourite pairings :D There seems to be a problem with the review replies, so thanks to: _webdlfan

Holly, Hope4sall, sparkygirl82, Lost in New York, afrozenheart412, rebeck, cmaddict, Andorian Ice Princess-AIP, _and_ sucker-4 Smacked - apologies if we've missed anyone out.

_Thanks also for the alerts and favourites. Please check out our individual stories too - 'Beacons of Home' and 'Once upon a time in the Old West'._

_

* * *

  
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Chapter 5 - **The bigger picture**

Day: 9

Opening Scene: Dingy, smoke-filled apartment

Time of Day: Late

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate

* * *

A woman sat in a leather backed chair, whilst her male companion prowled round her, running his finger round his collar every few minutes. His face was glistening with sweat, and his movements were quick and agitated.

"Deena, it's been nearly two weeks and we're no nearer getting these damned cops off our backs."

"Patience is a virtue, Carson. So far their case has yielded them few if any results. We've got nothing to fear."

"What if that CCTV did see us at that garage?"

"Not a chance, I had it fixed a couple of days before, and anyway, if they had found something, we would have had a visit by now. You think I'd risk getting my ass on TV and blowing the whole deal?" She sat forward and glared at him. For a moment he stopped and faced her across the desk, his hands palm down on the surface.

"But D-Day's approaching, we need to get into the building!"

"Calm down! It's all in hand. You got everything straight with your connections? Think they can give us a diversion?" He sighed, and stepped back from the desk. Where his palms has been, a damp mark was left on the surface.

"That's not a problem, we'll be ready to roll soon as we get the word. They're so scared of another 9/11, a few well placed quotes and accents will have them screaming terrorism and placing the city in lock down. They won't know what hit them until it's too late."

"Perfect. All we need now is to raise the stakes for the NYPD, and a little more pressure from the mayor should work wonders for our cause. Ali's working his magic at that warehouse on the East River as we speak; that little event should wake them up."

"Absolutely. You should start to see some results in a couple of hours. Third strike is all set for tomorrow morning, same time as they get that letter you're sending. Then there's the coup-de-gras we have planned ... That should turn their manpower away from us, especially when it's some of their own

"Good. Now all we need is someone to deliver that letter tomorrow morning and a few selective phone calls will have us ready to roll."

"Perfect." The man echoed the woman's words.

"It had better be."

A smile as false as the silk flowers crammed into a vase on the desk snaked across her face, and a trickle of sweat ran down the man's temple. His smile failed at the first attempt.

* * *

The city was just waking up when Flack found himself standing on the dockside behind a dilapidated warehouse. Apart from the warehouse not looking too safe he had his doubts about the actual wooden structure he was currently standing on; it was full of holes already where the wood had rotted away, but the body was somehow positioned near the edge which overhung the water. He deliberately stood at the edge looking north up the East River. His gaze falling directly on the UN building with all its myriad of people and frustrations. Including one particularly frustrating person. He wished he could forget about the case and that damned woman, that they would just go away. He wished it would all just go away. That he could be someplace else. With someone else. With the woman he wanted to be with. With Jess.

But that was never going to happen.

He sighed heavily and glanced over his shoulder at the current crime scene. Mac and Lindsay were processing it, so there was no need to stand over them, looking at the blood which had congealed around the victim. He still couldn't look at spilled blood without being flung back in his mind to the moment he had entered the diner and seen Jess; seen her blood pooling around her. Flack shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and focus on the task in hand. At first glance it had seemed a new case, but as the investigation got underway disturbing familiarities were emerging with the case that had side swiped them ten days before when Michael Stratton of the British Delegation to the UN had been found murdered in the parking lot across the street from their offices.

Flack rubbed his hand across his face and wandered to the front of the warehouse, he needed to rid himself of the uneasy feeling he had about the creaky planks he had just been walking on and the way the building seemed so menacing. He glanced up and down the street for a moment, watching the citizens going about their business with barely a thought for the squad cars and other activity around the deserted building, to many of them it was just another day in the city. He caught another glimpse of the UN building and let his mind review the case again. They were all getting heat for it sitting unsolved for so long and he was pretty pissed that he was getting almost daily calls from the Delegation Liaison Officer asking for updates. Stella had tried to tell him that the woman would be under pressure too, but he was brewing for a royal showdown with her as he felt she was doing it deliberately. It had been two days since the last call and he was hoping it was the last he'd hear from her. Unfortunately his luck was not to hold as he heard the drone of an engine approaching them and the distinctive blue Ninja motorbike drew to a stop a few feet from him. There was no mistaking her for anyone else. He groaned inwardly as she dismounted, removed her helmet and gloves and placed them on the seat of the bike before moving towards him.

"Detective Flack?" He looked around then glared at her.

"Miss Hunt. Now is not a good time, I'm a little busy working here." He replied waving his hand around at the crime scene behind him.

"Interesting, looks to me like you're standing around watching everyone else work." He saw the smile cross her face; he knew what she was trying to do and there was no way he was going to give her the satisfaction of teasing him. One time maybe he would have smiled back, dazzled her with one of his legendary dimpled grins, but not now. Now he rarely smiled, he couldn't even remember the last time he laughed. Not that he wanted to. He watched the smile quickly fall from her lips as she realised he didn't do teasing. He wasn't sure how to handle her, while they had spoken on almost a daily basis this was the first time they had met since the night in the bar. He remembered little about that night, except for her being there, then Mac and Stella showing up and practically dragging him away right in front of her. The next event in his memory was waking up alone in his apartment the next morning. He still didn't know how Mac and Stella knew to find him at the bar, and they had not told him. All that had been said by them was some stringent advice about not drinking alone and to excess. The matter hadn't been mentioned again, but somehow everyone seemed to know he'd made an ass of himself. If only he could remember what he did...

But Natalia was standing rather awkwardly in front of him, and he focused his attention back to her, and realised this was the first time she had appeared even slightly on edge around him. An unpleasant part of him realised suddenly that he now had a chance to turn the screws. And an even more unpleasant part decided to take the opportunity.

"Are you deliberately trying to piss me off? 'Cause I tell you something .. it's working." He growled venomously.

"I told you when we first met, I'm not after your investigation, but I have a job to do too. I'm getting shit from my superiors just like you probably are, Michael's wife took the news badly, I need to be able to give them more than that the NYPD are looking into it!"

"When I know something that you can pass on I'll tell you, but until then you need to quit calling me and turning up on my crime scenes!"

"I'm on my way to work, I saw you and stopped. That's it. Why would I want to stalk you detective? It's not like you've got anything to write home about!" She answered curtly while she glared at Flack. He glared back at her, annoyed that she refused to capitulate to his authority, that her moment of uncertainty was literally just that, a moment and now her super annoying official face was back in place.

Flack caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and cursed inwardly; that was all he needed, the Crime Lab boss hovering. He didn't need his help. He was washing his hands of the woman in front of him. Keeping his eyes on her, he chose to ignore Mac who was loading his evidence into a department SUV whilst looking their way. Flack found himself glaring into her blue eyes, neither speaking, everything they were feeling was pouring into the staring match they were involved in. He gained some small satisfaction from the flicker in her eyes as Mac approached them, figuring it had caught her by surprise.

"Miss Hunt, can I have a word?" Natalia broke her glare with Flack, looked at the ex-marine and nodded.

"Of course Detective Taylor." She answered in a soft tone while throwing another glare in Flack's direction.

They stepped aside leaving Flack seething. Her calm and courteous response to Mac's request proving that nothing had changed. She was still able to royally piss him off while she seemed none the worse for the encounter.

* * *

Mac had left Lindsay collecting the final evidence from their scene as the ME's van arrived, knowing she was more than capable to manage on her own, while he took a walk around and to catch up with Flack. He had been particularly uncommunicative this morning and still looked like he hadn't slept. He was seeing in their friend what Stella must have seen in him after Claire. There were days when it still hurt, but as it was said, time was a great healer. If Claire was still around he would have missed out on getting to know his team as well as he did, especially Stella. There had been a number of moments over the years they had shared; intimate moments when eyes had met and unspoken feelings had become apparent. Moments which seemed, in one way or another, to be increasing.

But as he glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of Flack and Natalia practically standing toe to toe glaring at each other, a frown crossed his face. He wished there was a way of making the detective see the damage his attitude was doing to the delicate liaison job which was going on around him.

They walked over to her bike while Flack headed towards the squad cars at the other end of the building.

"Is everything alright?" Mac asked.

"... I know this isn't an easy situation Mac, that you and your team are under a lot of pressure, but so am I, I've been getting daily requests for an update on Michael's case. It's getting harder for our welfare team to stop his wife from coming out here demanding them herself. ... Of course it hasn't helped that your morgue still has his body and won't release it until the case is concluded."

"I'm sorry about that, it's normal protocol. I wish I had answers for you, ... for Michael's wife, I can imagine how she feels."

"... From personal experience or because of the years on the job?"

Her words were not unkind and her perception was spot on. He glanced around before answering. A wistful look passed over his face as, for a moment, his wife's face danced in front of his mind. "A little of both, .... mostly personal. .... I lost my wife on 9/11. She worked in the South Tower." It wasn't often that he talked about Claire and how she died, but at that moment it felt right.

"I'm sorry. I know what a tough time it was. ... I was sent here after to help the Consulate. I know that's little comfort to you or anyone so personally affected, but I know some of the challenges that were faced in trying to bring some peace to those left behind."

Mac paused for a moment the words conveying a sense of her own devastation at what the city witnessed in the aftermath. "Let me have a chat to our ME and see if we can do something about sending Michael's body home."

"I'm sure it will help everyone." While it appeared their business was concluded for the moment as far as Mac was concerned, he noted how Natalia remained standing awkwardly in the same spot. She hesitated then looked at the man in front of her. ".... Mac, can I ask you something?"

"Sure ... can't promise I can give you an answer."

"Detective Flack. Have I done something wrong? Overstepped protocol? Everytime I try and talk to him I just get this tirade of anger telling me it's his case not mine. I've tried a few times to get a meeting so we can discuss things, kind of like we did after you found Michael. But he doesn't want to know. I just need to know how to make this work."

Mac half nodded sympathetically. "Detective Flack is very good at his job, sometimes, like the rest of us, he just has a problem with Diplomatic cases. If you find it better you can call me." Mac gave the short answer. It wasn't his place to go into what was really behind Flack's attitude.

"Thank you. ... If there's anything I can do to help please let me know. ... I just feel so helpless."

"I can appreciate that. Of course we'll be in touch if there's anything."

Natalia nodded in acknowledgement and turned to her bike, collecting her helmet and gloves, then she turned back to Mac. "I realise Detective Flack is having a hard time with something at the moment which is more than just this case, but could you give him a message for me?"

Mac was slightly intrigued. This was the third time he had met the Liaison Officer and each time she managed to surprise him. She was very perceptive. "A message?" He asked a small grin on his lips. Was this a good idea? He wondered suddenly what Flack might have to say at being delivered a message.

"Yes, nothing provocative. ... Remind him that if he wants me to explain my role in more detail or if he has questions, he has my contact details. Most of my waking hours are spent at the office right now, except when my PA drags me out for a drink in that bar on 3rd where you found us last week. ... I just don't know how to make it any clearer that I'm not trying to take over his investigation."

"Don't worry about it. ... I'll talk to him."

Natalia nodded and pulled on her helmet and gloves, then with a quick wave to Mac she mounted the bike and rode away. Mac half grinned, she was definitely a strong woman ... and an understanding one. He thought he knew what part of Flack's problem was. She reminded him too much of Jess. Maybe he should do what he should have done last week and have that conversation with him. With a sigh he walked towards the detective.

"Flack! A word." He beckoned as he got closer. Flack grimaced but joined him anyway.

"She gone then?" He asked abruptly, watching Natalia disappear into the traffic. Moving out of earshot of the gathered uniforms Mac looked seriously at the younger detective.

"She's fine Don. ... I got you off the hook though for now. She's going to call me."

"Good luck with that, she's a damned pit bull, she won't give up."

"Can you blame her? A friend of hers is still lying in our morgue and we have no answers for her or her government. She's feeling as much pressure as we are if not more, because at least we know there will be answers out there somewhere."

"But she's so damned arrogant, waving the immunity crap all over."

"Don, maybe you two got off on the wrong foot. ... How much sleep had you got before that call out to Michael Stratton? How much did you get last night?"

"Enough. You trying to tell me that whether I slept or not affects how I work my cases? Mac, you know me better than that."

"I do, which is why all of this is not you, none of us like these immunity cases, but they're part of this city and you normally tolerate them better." Mac paused for a split second then hoped what he was going to say wouldn't cause a scene, but this conversation had to start somewhere. "... Have you talked to anyone?"

Flack looked at him as if he had grown two heads. "Are you trying to tell me I'm some kind of nut job? That I can't do my job? 'Cause if you are-" He was getting agitated. Mac held up his hand.

"Don, listen. I'm not saying anything. I'm not going to discuss this here, I just want you to know you're not alone, that we're all here, we all want to help. Everyone is worried about you. My door's open anytime, day or night."

Flack opened his mouth to say something and Mac saw the tears pool in his eyes. He almost felt his own rise to the surface, and they stood in an awkward silence for a moment.

"Do you need me anymore? I got things to do." Flack said finally, a signal to Mac that he was going to run away. Just like Hawkes said he had done when the subject of conversation got too close to Jess. Mac knew how it felt, hell he'd been there himself, but he had always had Stella's support and she didn't hold it against him in the weaker moments. She had quietly let him shed his tears, then mopped them up and they'd moved on with life. As yet, as far as he knew, Flack had not turned to anyone, even his family. Whatever was going on in his head he was trying to deal with it alone and that was just a recipe for disaster. But with a feeling of resignation, Mac knew he was not going to get any further with Don today other than repeat his offer of help.

"No you go, we can wrap up here. ... but Don, don't keep trying to handle it all by yourself." Mac offered as Flack began to walk away.

He turned to the CSI with a thunderous look. "What's to handle Mac? She's gone. She's not coming back!" He spat the words at him with more venom than Mac believed possible, before marching away. In that moment, he realised that there was one hell of a long road ahead of Don before he could even begin to start coming to terms with losing Jess. And as Mac knew all too well, it was a hard and often lonely road, one that he hoped Don would not lose himself along, at least not anymore than he had already.

* * *

Stella headed into autopsy, expecting to find Sid arm deep in the entrails of their latest victim. Instead, the body was still where it had been delivered, inside a black body bag on an autopsy table while the morgue assistants bustled round it. Two other bodies from overnight were similarly laid out. She creased her forehead as she frowned. This wasn't like Sid, he wouldn't not be here. She stopped a passing employee and questioned his whereabouts, the young man shrugged his shoulders and continued with his task.

"OK, who's in charge down here?" She called out, her voice echoing around the room and off the steel doors to the freezers.

"I guess I am." A nervous voice answered from behind her. "At least until the locum arrives." Stella spun round to find herself face to face with a petite brunette with piercing green eyes and long hair twirled around her head and held in place with a large barette. She instantly recognised their Morgue Manager, Stacey.

"Locum? What locum?"

"Dr Hammerback's, ... he called in sick this morning, asked me to call Dr Beattie, but she's got to get back from Washington where she's at a conference. She should be here this afternoon. ... Dr Hammerback said to tell you not to worry he's got a touch of food poisoning and he'll be right as rain in a few days."

"He didn't ask for Dr Hawkes?"

"No, when I asked he said he would be too busy working on that diplomatic case he didn't want to distract him..."

"We can't wait on this one, we need the autopsy done now." Stella sighed opening her phone and pressing buttons. "Sheldon, ... How do you fancy a trip back in time? ... I've got a body in need of an autopsy like yesterday. ... No he's sick, won't be in for a few days, he's got cover but they won't be here till this afternoon and we need this one done ASAP Mac and Lindsay sent it over, looks like the same MO as Michael Stratton. ... Thought you'd see it that way. Thanks Sheldon." Stella hung up the phone and turned to the Morgue Manager. "Stacey, Dr Hawkes is on his way, I need the body from Detective Taylor's scene at the warehouse prepped as soon as possible, we think it's connected to the Stratton case."

"Right away Detective."

Stella gave her a warm smile and left thinking how lucky they were to have her keeping the morgue running so smoothly under Sid's direction.

* * *

Mac hung his jacket up on the post by the door then dropped into his chair behind his desk and sighed. He eyed the scattered files which littered his desk. After rubbing his chin he pulled one of the files towards him. He had just opened it when his phone rang. He reached across his desk and lifted the receiver.

"Taylor. ... Ken? ... Yeah it's been a long time. How are the family? .... That's good. .... We should, but I know that's not why I'm hearing from you. .... I knew there were other motives. ... You are? How did you swing that one? .... Right, of course. .... I'd love to but- ... OK, what can I do for you? .... That so? ... Can I ask where your information came from?"

Stella crept into the office and sat in one of the chairs opposite Mac, waiting for him to finish his call. Mac cast her a quick glance as he continued to listen attentively as the caller continued to speak for several minutes. He felt his face take on a deep frown as he listened to what his old friend had to tell him.

"I appreciate your candour, you know where my office is if you get some breathing space and we can always grab a few beers. .. I will, stay in touch, if you hear anything new I'd appreciate the nod. ... You too Ken. Take care."

Mac placed the receiver down slowly and carefully, stalling for time, as he was well aware of the questions in Stella's eyes regarding the conversation she had heard. Questions that he was not sure he wanted to answer; that he was not even sure he could answer. All he was certain of was that the case involving Michael Stratton seemed to have just become a whole lot more complicated for all of them.

And dangerous.

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_Please review and tell us what you think! Thank you, Lily and Forest_


	6. Being Honest

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! Plenty more action and drama coming up, as well as time with our favourite pairings :D _

_Thank you to didi and rebeck for your reviews. Sorry we cannot reply in person, but your encouragement is welcome._._ Thanks also for the additional alerts and favourites. _

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Chapter 6 - Being Honest

Day: 10

Opening Scene: Crime Lab

Time of Day: Mid Morning

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly Opens

Heads of Government General Debate (less than 1 week's time)

* * *

Stella watched Mac as he put the phone down. His face remained set in the frown it had creased into as he spoke to whoever had been on the other end of the conversation. "There a problem?" She asked, in a tone of voice she hoped conveyed that she expected an honest answer from him. Clearly, something in the conversation had bothered him, and she wanted to know what it was. He rubbed a hand over his face and met her gaze, "Nothing you need to worry about..."

"That's a little evasive, Mac. I heard enough to pick up that whoever you were talking to has given you some cause for concern." For a few seconds they looked at each other, and Stella could see the decisions and judgements going on in her friend's mind. It was an easy decision of her own to give him a push towards what she wanted him to say. "Listen, this may or may not be the best time for me to say this... though actually, yes, maybe it is." She stopped and bit her bottom lip, realising that she was nervous about the conversation she was about to embark on. If she said the wrong thing, or used the wrong words, it could make things very awkward between them. At exactly a time when they needed to be pulling together even more than usual.

"Go on." Mac said quietly, and she darted a nervous glance at him.

"What I'm trying to say is that... over the last couple of years, there've been occasions when it might have done both of us good to have been straight with each other right from the start, and shared a problem, before it got too big. The whole scenario with Drew for instance... Mac, you needn't have gone through all that alone for as long as you did. I still wish you'd told me earlier what had been going on."

He sighed, "I know, and that's something that I regret, and for what it led to with you and Drew, Andy rather. That should never have happened, Stella. You were put in danger. If anything had happened..."

"That wasn't your fault." Shaking her head at him, Stella spoke quickly to clarify her point, "What I'm meaning is... Whatever we've been through in the past, and whatever's lined up for us in the future, we're still partners, and you know what I've said to you before, and it still applies... we take care of each other, we share things. That means sharing worries too. That's a personal and a professional deal." For a moment, she looked down at her hands, realising she was falling into her nervous habit of pulling at her fingers, "And I know I'm not entirely blameless on that count either..." Looking up, slightly apprehensively, she met Mac's eyes and the look in his face was difficult to decipher, so she continued, trying not to stumble over her words, "I guess you know what I'm talking about. Yes, I know, the coins, everything that happened with Kolovos and Diakos, maybe if I'd been honest with you in the first place... Hell, no, not _maybe_... I _should_ have been honest with you. That kind of rift between us, Mac, I don't ever want to have that happen again. You shouldn't have had to do all you did, come all the way to Greece to help me..."

"That was a personal as well as a professional deal."

Her head shot up then at his words, and the low tone he used. She felt her pulse rate quicken slightly, remembering again the moment she had first seen him there, outside the museum. And the moment he had burst into her hotel room as she fought with the Professor's brother; the relief and adrenaline she had experienced finding herself suddenly in his arms was still clear in her mind. Even now, it stopped her in her tracks that he had flown half-way round the world to find her.

"Mac..." She started, unsure of herself now.

He was staring intently at her, "And, if I'm being honest, a little more personal than professional."

Another silence fell between them, and Stella could hear her blood rushing in her ears. Feeling it the only thing she could do at that moment, she reached over and laid her hand over his. "I hope you know just how much I appreciated you doing all you did."

"The same could be said by me. You've been there for me on more occasions than I can count, Stella. It was long overdue for me to try and right the balance."

"I wasn't keeping count." She smiled, even with the lump she found unexpectedly in her throat.

"I know you weren't." Mac replied, "But I was."

Stella ducked her head, and then with a small, embarrassed laugh to cover some of what she was feeling, she gave his hand a squeeze. "You distracted me from my point, Mac! But I think we've established some of what we needed to, so now you can tell me what's got you so worried. Is it something to do with a case?"

He sighed, and pulled back a little in his chair, "The Stratton case. Stella, we seem to have opened a can of worms here, and now with a second murder that seems to be linked to it... The call came from an old friend of mine from the marines. He stayed in the forces and heads up a unit now. He also has some links with the UN, and knows about the first murder."

"Anything useful he can tell us?"

Mac stood up and began pacing the room, Stella swivelled round in her chair as he moved behind her. "He gave me a warning." He stopped and looked at her.

"A warning?" She felt her forehead crinkle; that was not what she had expected to be told, "A warning about what? Was it a threat?"

"No. As I said, Ken's an old friend, it was a warning for my own safety, and the team's safety. He told me the Stratton case was only a very small part of a bigger picture, and that we were heading into deep waters with the investigation."

"Does he expect you to drop the case?" Her eyebrows had risen incredulously.

"You know we would never do that."

"Of course not..."

"It makes me wonder though, how far this reaches."

"A lot further than we first thought."

He nodded slowly, "And I'm inclined to believe what Ken says. However, we can't back down, and we aren't going to stop investigating. What we do need to do though..."

"Is tread a little more carefully."

"Exactly. But if there's murky dealings going on, then we have to stop them."

"We have to." She echoed.

"I think we also have to watch our backs." Mac leaned up against the wall of his office, "After Dunbrook..."

"We can't afford to go through that again." Shaking her head vehemently, Stella stood up and offered a quick touch to his shoulder, "And we won't. We've all got each others backs, and we've got the cooperation of the British delegation at least."

He nodded and gave her a brief smile, "I'm grateful for any cooperation at this point. I have a feeling things are going to get messy."

"Well just bear in mind that you don't have to face it alone."

"I will."

"Good. Now, I promised Hawkes I'd go down and see what he was coming up with."

Mac inclined his head, "I'll join you in a few minutes."

With a squeeze of his shoulder, Stella left his office, glancing back briefly as she made her way down the corridor. He had turned away again, and was rubbing the back of his neck. Always a sign he was bothered about something. Frowning, Stella shook her head slightly, and tried without success to quell the apprehension that had started to unsettle her.

-----

Hawkes was closing one of the freezer drawers when Stella walked in. "Hey Stella, I thought Mac was coming down."

"He's on his way, what can you tell me in the meantime?"

"Not much more than Mac already guessed I'm afraid. How familiar are you with the Stratton case?"

"Mac and I have talked, why?"

"Our John Doe from Mac and Lindsay's scene this morning, .. it has the same type of wounds. They thought there were similarities and to some extent there are, but at the same time the guy was also shot. Best I can tell a small round, possibly a .22. No bullets recovered. .. Interesting though that it wasn't a kill shot, the injury that killed him was from a long narrow spear like blade, just like Sid found on Stratton."

"The same MO but not? What are we looking at here?" Stella asked, her forehead wrinkling as a frown of confusion crossed her face.

"I've had another look at Stratton's wounds, and it's definitely the same weapon, I cast them and sent them up to Adam to see if he can get us some sort of ID. The defence wounds on Stratton and the knife wounds don't match with John Doe, so I'm thinking we've got two killers each time so we're dealing with at least 3 perps, one of them switched out this time."

"Interesting assumption. How can we prove that?"

"Stratton and John Doe are both around 6 foot, the kill shots are in roughly the same place and of the same depth. The knife wounds on Stratton, were probably to incapacitate him and I think were done while he was still standing, from the angle and height I'd say by someone no taller than 5'7. Lindsay's gathering some stuff to run a reconstruction to prove it."

"That's good, Any other gems you have for us? You always save the best for last." Stella grinned conspiratorially.

Hawkes grinned back, knowing he was not about to disappoint her, "You know me too well. .... Adam just called, we got a hit. Our John Doe is one George Masters, a senior security officer at the UN. AFIS was a bust so on a hunch he ran the UN and immigration databases."

"Security Officer?"

"Yep."

"At the UN?" Hawkes nodded as Stella appeared to be trying to fight her surprise at the latest turn of events. "This is not good. I'm going to find Mac and bring him up to speed. Flack is going to have to make a trip to the UN to follow up and he's not going to like that, especially if he runs into Natalia Hunt."

"What's with all the talk? I've heard something about them facing off every time they meet."

"Dr Hawkes, you getting in touch with your feminine side and going after the girly gossip?" She teased; a dazzling smile crossing her lips.

"It's all over, how some of the uniforms thought he was going to hit her or the British Vice Consul last week. I hear from our guys here that she showed up again this morning at the scene and there were sparks flying."

"Honestly Doc, I have no idea what is going on his head at the moment. I do know that she shopped him to Mac last week when he got drunk after your so called night out."

"And how would you know that?" Hawkes asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"That's for me to know and you never to find out. I've gotta go. See you later." Stella hurried from the room, with, unless he was very much mistaken, a flush of colour in her face, leaving Hawkes puzzled by more than just the latest discovery which connected their cases. Sometimes being the genius in the group didn't pay, he decided with regret. No one ever discussed the latest gossip with him.

-----

Flack entered the UN building, barely repressing a snort of disgust. For whatever reasons, this case had gotten under his skin. Even at the best of times, he hated the murkiness, as he saw it, of any cases linked to the complex structures of international politics and diplomacy as this one was.

He held his badge out, warding off as many inquiries as possible as soon as he entered the building, taking note of the sheer amount of security. He noted with professional detachment the differences in the detail here: it was in the eyes and stance of the security personnel. There was a good mixture of uniform and non-uniform, but he could spot them all. Watching every movement of every person that passed through the doors and across the vast entrance hall.

The badge let him through to where he wanted to be without any unnecessary delay, which eased his mood a little. He wanted to be the one in charge of the questions, not the other way round. After being ushered into an office with a polished wooden floor that his dress shoes made a clacking sound on, he had only a few minutes to wait before footsteps sounded outside the door. Who he was meeting, Flack did not know for sure, and for a moment before the door opened, he wondered if it would be Natalia Hunt about to walk through it. He held his breath, letting it out when a dark-suited man entered offering a handshake and coffee.

The meeting with the Chief of Security was brief, but yielded some results to Flack's satisfaction. He left with confirmation of the dead man's name, George Masters, and the further information that he had worked for the UN building for almost ten years, was well respected and liked by all staff, and seemed to have no enemies. Flack had stifled a grunt at that; there were few security guards he knew of who did not make at least one enemy somehow. It was in the nature of the job. What was still frustrating him though was that he could still find no connection to Michael Stratton. The two men, other than possible chance meetings inside the UN building during the lead up to the General Debate, had nothing else in common, and as far as could be determined, no mutual acquaintances.

With the Chief of security promising to contact him if he obtained any other useful information, Flack departed. As he made his way to the entrance. He could not help a searching look at the personnel milling about. But there was no sign of the woman who had crossed his path earlier that day. Natalia Hunt was not in the building, and Flack suddenly wondered why he felt more than a little disappointed about that.

-----

A few hours later, and Flack's mood had lightened a shade or two. Mostly due to the brief phone call he had made to Danny, which had included a tentative invitation to go out for a beer. Very few words had been spoken between them on the phone, but it had been enough to mend fences.

So now they were sitting in one of their favourite bars, drinking their favourite beers with conversation flowing more easily than it had done in a long time.

After taking a long swig of his beer, Danny set it down on the bar and looked Flack up and down. "You doing okay?"

Flack considered the question for a moment, and then nodded slowly, "I'm doing okay... Not great, but yeah, okay."

"Good to hear it." Danny picked up his glass again, "And last time we were out, you know..."

Flack felt his face warm, remembering how he had walked out on his friends, and tried to cover it by taking a pull from his guiness.

"Yeah, I know. It was, uh, not a good night, you know..."

"I figured."

"Yeah. Appreciated the thought, but..."

"Yeah." Danny nodded, and they glanced at each other. An unspoken apology passing between them.

Another silence fell for a few minutes, and Flack ruminated on the day's events, and the case occupying his thoughts. Until Danny spoke again. "So what's bugging you at the moment?"

"What?" He curled his lip, "Nothing's bugging me."

Danny nodded and coughed, with a sceptical sound, "Sure there's not."

Flack looked at him askance, and took a slow sip of his drink. "You doubting my word?"

"Never. Only, I hear from various sources that _you_ and a certain British Liaison Officer have been clashing..."

A snort erupted from him, "Sources, huh? I'm guessing certain people have been gossiping... Never thought you'd be one for gossip, Messer."

It was Danny's turn to snort, "Gossip ain't my thing, and you know it. I'm only saying what I hear. And I hear stuff about you, so I ask you about it. Other sources tell me she and Mac have been getting along pretty good..."

Flack raised his eyebrows, "What you implying with that? That she's interested in Mac? Come on..." The sudden stab of jealousy took him by surprise, then he grinned as it passed, "You and I both know that Mac's interests, even if he ain't got round to saying as much, lie with other people."

"Other people being a certain co-worker?" Danny smirked as he drained the last drop of beer from his bottle and wiped his lips, "Yeah, I've noticed he and Stella have been pretty close recently. Good luck to 'em both."

With a nod, Flack gulped down the dregs of his pint, as Danny glanced at his watch. "Got places to go?"

"Yeah, I gotta head to Ma's. Promised Lindsay I'd pick Lucy up - she got called in."

Flack felt a pang as his friend's face softened at the mention of his daughter. Not for the first or the last time, he thought of Jess and what that could have been theirs. He did not resent his friends' happiness, but at times, it reminded him of what he had lost. He had lost more than the present; he had lost the future as well. A future with Jess. But Danny was giving him a quizzical look, and he did not want to talk about it then. It was not fair to Danny, either.

They both stood up and made their way out of the bar, pausing for a moment on the sidewalk. "Thanks." Flack spoke suddenly, "For, you know..."

"It's cool. Any time you need a beer, or a game, you only gotta ask."

"Yeah, I know. Appreciate it."

"Or any time you want to call round and see Lucy. She's been asking about her Uncle Don."

"Sure she has." Flack grinned suddenly, thinking of the 5 month old and resolved then he would do so in the next few days. "Tell her he's keeping her Daddy out of trouble."

"Whatever. Okay, I'm leaving you here..."

"You good to drive?"

"I'm good. Only had a half."

"Take it easy then."

"Will do." With a wave over his shoulder, Danny tucked his hands into his pockets and walked away, towards his waiting daughter. Flack watched him go before turning and trudging in the direction of his own home. Where no one waited for him. He walked a few yards along the sidewalk, before stopping suddenly. Before he realised it, his cellphone was in his hand and he was dialling a number he did not dial often enough. It rang for a few seconds before a female voice answered.

"Hey, Sam... Yeah, it's me. Yeah I know, ages... You in? Good. I'll head over..."

He ended the call with a smile on his face, and changed the direction he was walking with footsteps that felt several times lighter.

-----

Danny strolled down the sidewalk to where he had left his car, feeling a little easier about things with Flack. He hadn't missed the look on his face though when he had spoken about Lucy and Lindsay, however, he had a feeling that things were maybe starting to right themselves for his friend. It would still take a long time for him to be back to himself, and that might never happen, but he could at least see the beginning of a recovery.

It only took a few minutes to reach his car. Before he got in, he paused and after considering for a second, pulled out his phone and sent a rapid text to his wife. Smiling to himself, he settled himself inside, fiddled with the air conditioning for a moment and the radio, and turned the key in the ignition.

Nothing happened. Danny wrinkled his forehead, and muttering to himself, tried again. Still nothing. Groaning, he swung himself out of the car door, and popped the hood open, peering into the engine. A poke and a prod at various parts proved futile in locating any visible problem, so with a shrug, he slammed the hood down, got back into the car and turned the key. It started immediately. Chuckling to himself, and feeling slightly smug at solving whatever the problem had been so easily, Danny drove off, glancing out of the window at the city's nightlife, and tapping the wheel as he listened to the music pumping out of his radio.

He approached an intersection and lifted his foot off the accelerator. There was nothing in front of him. He touched the brake. And nothing happened.

_Shit_...

Danny pressed harder, stamping down this time. Still nothing. The car kept going. The intersection coming up faster and faster. Cursing furiously, panic rising inside him, Danny stamped his foot over and over, yanked the key out of the ignition and tried dragging the handbrake on. And the car moved forward relentlessly.

_Oh god..._

Terrified thoughts shot through him, images of Lucy and Lindsay, his life. So it really was true. what they said... It streamed through his mind, everything, his life, everything he loved, everyone he loved... And too fast, the cross section of roads was hurtling towards him, with another car now coming into sight. He could not hit it; he was not going to be responsible for the death or injury of anyone else if he could help it.

With a yell, Danny swung the wheel in desperate ferocity, slewing across the road towards a street light. He braced himself, flinging his arms up over his face as the concussion from the impact rattled through him and plunged him into darkness. The last sound in his mind was the hiss of steam, a crackling of breaking glass and shouting from far, far away before everything faded to nothing.

_

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Lily needs to finish writing chapter 7 so please review and give her a boost.

Also we'd like you to check out our individual stories too - 'Beacons of Home' and 'Once upon a time in the Old West'.


	7. Damage

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! They helped Lily to complete this chapter :D Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! Plenty more action and drama coming up, as well as time with our favourite pairings._

_Thank you to cc and rebeck for your reviews. Sorry we cannot reply in person, but your encouragement is welcome_._ Thanks also for the additional alerts and favourites. Sorry if you didn't get a proper review reply, we had some problems with our email _

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Story Title: **Hidden Agenda**

Chapter 7 - Damage

Day: 10

Opening Scene: Cafe near the Crime Lab

Time of Day: Around 9pm

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate

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Mac and Stella were sitting in the local cafe as they caught a quick break from the lab; Stella having almost dragged her friend out after he had spent most of the morning poring over the evidence from his latest case and the afternoon glued to his phone trying to smooth the ruffled feathers of anyone in power who wanted answers to the cases. She watched him for a moment, seeing a deep frown crinkling his forehead and making him look angry.

"All right Mac," she said suddenly. "Spill. You had to practically be dragged over here and you've barely said anything since we've been here. What's bugging you?"

Mac sighed and slowly looked up. "Michael Stratton."

"The British Diplomat killed 10 days ago?"

"Everyone wants answers and we're getting nowhere. ... We ran into Natalia Hunt this morning, Flack laid into her again for doing her job."

"What's with him lately? He's been pissed at Danny for over a week, he snaps at almost everyone. I thought he was going to flatten Sinclair the other day when he asked for an update on the case," Stella snapped, unable to keep the anger out of her voice. She knew Jessica Angell's death had badly affected the detective, but she was failing to understand why he was still so angry with everyone around him and how as more time passed, the worse his attitude seemed to be. They were all at a loss for what to do to help him.

"He talked to anyone yet about Jess?"

Stella shook her head, the anger inside giving way suddenly to a deep sadness as tears formed in her eyes. "He barely mentions her name. He's doing everything to avoid facing up to it. I know I avoided it for a while, but he's still digging his way to China."

Annoyed with herself for letting the tears come so easily yet again, she avoided Mac's gaze as she flicked her hand across her face to remove them, hoping he hadn't noticed.

"Different people deal with things differently Stella, you know what happened to me after Claire died," Mac answered sombrely, and she noted the wistful look which crossed his face at the mention of his late wife.

It was time to get them out of the depression they were fast falling into and if one of them didn't do it soon there would be no stopping the tears. She sighed heavily. "But you had me, I wouldn't take no for an answer." A small smile spread across her lips at that. As Mac looked up, she saw the vacant look gradually fade and a small glint of something else replace it. She knew then she had drawn him back once more from the edge of the dark cloud which still haunted him. A dark cloud which he had lived with for years before allowing himself to live again, except that now after the shooting it was a dark cloud which had returned to hover near all of them.

"That's true. ... You know, you could do the same for Flack."

She noted how his head slanted slightly to one side as he spoke, and the way he looked at her with a challenging gleam in his eye.

"You think I haven't tried? I tell you Mac, he's more stubborn than you ever were!"

Mac chuckled. "That so?"

Stella was about to answer when Mac's phone rang. He took it from the table and answered. "... Don! Slow down. Take a breath. What's happening? ..... Is he alright? ... Okay that's fine, I'll be there in 10. . ... no Stella's with me, she can go to the hospital."

Mac ended the call and looked at Stella. She stared back at him before voicing the question she almost did not dare hear the answer to. "What happened? Who's at the hospital?"

She noted the heavy sigh, and could almost feel the fear crawling up her spine as she waited to hear the bad news which she guessed was coming.

"It's Danny. He's been in a car accident. Flack's on scene, says he's a little banged up; conscious, but pretty groggy. Flack sounded shook up too. Can you head over to Angel of Mercy and see Danny? I'm going to head over to the scene and meet Flack, check what's happening there."

Shaken at the news herself, Stella felt her emotions flipping between relief that Danny was not seriously hurt, horror at the knowledge another colleague had been injured, and worry at what both Flack and of course Lindsay were going to be feeling. But she simply nodded at Mac, knowing she would have to deal with her emotions later. "Sure, I'll call you when I know anything, I'll pick Lindsay up on the way, I take it she doesn't know yet?"

"No, Flack called me first. ... Call me from the hospital."

"You know I will."

They hurried from their seats and Mac dropped some money to cover their bill on the table before they rushed out of the door to their different destinations; Stella immediately running through her mind how she could possibly break the news to Lindsay.

* * *

"Lindsay..."

She looked up from the evidence she was bending over, and something in Stella's look, and the slight hesitation in her voice, almost made her drop what she was holding.

"What's wrong?"

Panic was rising unstoppably as Stella came further into the room; the look of concern in her eyes giving away that she was about to tell her something she did not want to hear.

_Danny... Something's wrong... Something's happened... _

"What's happened, Stella? What is it? Tell me!" she was aware her voice was rising with each syllable, but didn't care at that point. She had to know, Whatever it was. "Danny..."

"He's okay," Stella said in a rush, making her way over to her. "He's been in a car accident, but he's okay. Really. A little shaken, but conscious. Not too much damage."

Lindsay gasped and even as Stella drew her into her arms, she felt her body stiffen, trying desperately to hold back tears.

"What... what happened?" her breath was heaving in her chest. "Where is he? I need to see him..."

Stella kept her grip on her shoulders. "I know, it's fine honey, I'm going to drive us over to the hospital now, okay? It's okay, Lindsay. He'll be fine."

Lindsay gave a half sob, half laugh as Stella pulled back to look at her. Her hand fluttered at her neck as she felt breathless and weak in her legs.

"He's okay?"

Stella smiled and linked her arm through hers. "He's okay, promise. I phoned people and got some more information on my way here. Listen, we're going to head over there now, I'm going to leave you to talk to him, then I'm going to ask him some questions too. Flack and Mac are at the scene, so we'll get some answers from them soon as they have them. How does that sound?"

Almost without her realising, they had reached the elevator. Stella hit the button, and turned Lindsay to face her.

"Anything you need to sort out? Where's Lucy? Want me to go get her?"

She shook her head. "It's okay, uh... I don't know... Yes... No... Oh Stella..."

To her horror, tears were now leaking uncontrollably down her cheeks, and her legs were trembling. Stella pulled her into a hug though, and as the elevator doors opened, guided her in and kept her arm round her, keeping on talking to her in a low and comforting voice.

"It's okay, I know this is a shock, but he's all right, he'll be bouncing back in no time. Just let me know where Lucy is and if you need me to, I'll pick her up and bring her to the hospital, or if you want me to look after her, I can do that.

She nodded gratefully, and choked back a sob to give her friend a watery smile. "Thanks... I appreciate that. Just give me a few minutes... She's okay where she is for the moment, Danny's Mom has her, he'll have been going to pick her up... I don't want to upset her.. . Bringing her to the hospital might not be the best... And I've got to let his Mom know as well..."

Stella nodded. "Sure. Take as many minutes as you want. And if you want me to give his Mom a call, I can do that. Okay?"

"Okay... okay."

"I'll call her soon as we get to the hospital."

Patting her arm, Stella guided her out of the elevator and towards her car, and they set off.

The journey to the hospital, Lindsay could remember almost nothing about afterwards; it was a blur of Stella's voice drifting in and out of her awareness; of the city streets swimming past her teary eyes...

"We're here, kiddo."

She snapped out of her trance, and turned to the other woman, feeling dazed.

"Oh... I..."

Stella gripped her arm. "Come on, let's go in, find how that husband of yours is, okay? Ask him how he came to be smashing up his car..."

It drew a trembling laugh from Lindsay, and she managed to get her seat belt unbuckled on only the second attempt. Stella waited patiently, and then looped her arm through hers again as they made their way to the entrance.

Anxious minutes later, and Lindsay was walking along the corridor, this time leading, with Stella close on her heels. Her breath was still fluttering in her chest, but at the sound of Danny's voice coming from a room a few meters away, a smile crept back onto her face.

He was speaking, he had to be all right.

Flinging herself through the door, she took in the sight of a nurse only at the periphery of her consciousness, before wrapping Danny in a hug and letting the tears flow.

* * *

"Sheldon."

Hawkes looked up as Mac strode towards him, reaching him a few seconds later and peering over his shoulder into the engine of the car. It was a wreck. As soon as he had seen it being towed into the garage, Hawkes had shaken his head in amazement, and thankfulness, that Danny had escaped alive. The front of the car was stoved in, the hood crumpled and the lights smashed. The windscreen had spider-webbed, and the passenger side door had a large dent, as if a giant fist had smashed into it.

Inside the car were sprinklings of glass, and a smear of blood on the steering wheel.

At that, Hawkes had to stop for a moment, and take some controlled breaths.

The sight of the glass and the blood had sent his mind careering back to the night a few months ago that had almost been the last night of his life. Although he did not remember much of the actual event; moments of memory came like electric shocks still too frequently. Sparked sometimes by the most innocuous thing; a sight, a sound, a smell. And then he was back in the bar, hearing Stella speaking, seeing a car driving past, hearing glass breaking, and shots firing...

He pulled himself back to the present as he felt Mac's gaze on him.

"You find anything yet?"

There was plenty to be found, if you knew where to look.

"I did, and I don't think you're going to like it."

He bent down, and pulled up a cable, showing it to Mac, who studied it with a grim expression. "Brake lines severed?"

Hawkes nodded. "Exactly. This was done deliberately. No way these wore through naturally... look, you can see the edge here."

Mac picked it up and turned it over in his gloved hand. "Looks like a knife cut."

"I'd say so."

"Sabotaged?"

It was an ugly word, and an ugly implication. Hawkes met his boss's eyes, and saw the anger in them.

"Looks that way... But why, Mac? I don't get it. Danny's not involved in anything high profile..." he trailed off as it struck him that he was wrong. They were all currently involved in a high profile case; high profile in terms of the personnel involved, even though it did not have the media attention a few other cases over the years had generated. This case suddenly seemed a whole lot more dangerous. "Michael Stratton," he sighed. "You think this is anything to do with that?"

Mac made no answer at first, but looked away momentarily, still gripping the cut cable in his hand. "Not only Michael Stratton, but George Masters as well. We got two bodies both linked with the UN General Assembly now. We all need to watch our backs." His eyes bored into Hawkes. "I can't have anything else happening to my team."

Hawkes nodded, unable to say anything for a moment. Mac handed him back the cable and gave him a clap on the shoulder.

"If I haven't said it yet, it's good to have you back, Sheldon."

"Thanks... thanks, Mac. I, uh, I appreciate that."

Mac inclined his head. "Keep on this. I'm going over to check on Danny and Lindsay, and let them know what we've found out."

"Give them my best wishes. I'll stop by later... They going to keep him in?"

"That I don't know, but knowing Danny, he's going to fight against staying there a moment longer than he has to."

At that, Hawkes allowed himself to grin. "Sounds like Danny. Okay, tell him he has my sympathy, and if he needs anyone to bust him out of there, I know a few tricks."

Mac's face relaxed fractionally into something approaching a smile. "Will do."  
He left, and with a shake of his head, Hawkes crouched down and turned his attention back to the car engine.

* * *

Hating the way his shoes squeaked along the corridor floor, Mac made his way towards the room he had been informed he would find Danny in. Before leaving, he had called Stella, telling her he was on his way, and what Hawkes had told him. But he had asked her to keep the information about the car to herself for the present; he wanted to tell Danny and Lindsay in person. Which was his less than pleasant task now as he headed down the corridor. Outside the door, he could hear Stella's voice, asking a question, and he paused for a moment listening to her before taking a breath and walking over the threshold.

"Danny," Mac assessed the appearance of the younger man critically, noting the lump on his forehead and the look of acute discomfort distorting his features; at least a few cracked ribs, he guessed, judging from the way he was breathing very carefully. "How are you?"

Danny grimaced. "Been... better. Kind of feels like a truck hit me..."

"You were lucky it didn't!" Lindsay cried. "If there'd been any more traffic, if you'd been going any faster..." her face crumpled, and tears streaked from her eyes, before she gasped, gulping her sobs back. "Mac, I'm sorry, it's just..."

He put his hands into his pockets. "No need to apologise."

She nodded and gave him a watery smile. "Thanks."

"Where's Lucy?" The sudden thought of his goddaughter brought the question from his mouth. It was Stella who answered.

"On her way with Danny's mom. I called her after Lindsay and I got here. So you get the chance to see your favourite little girl, Mac."

She grinned at him and he allowed a smile onto his features; now he had seen Danny for himself, and that he was alive and not seriously harmed, some of the worry broke away from him. Not enough though. There was still very much a threat hanging over them all. A threat they all needed to be aware of.

"Good to hear," he gave Stella a brief reply before turning back to his younger colleagues.

"Where's Flack?" Danny asked suddenly.

"He finished what he needed at the scene and knew you were in good hands with Lindsay so left to keep a date with his sister, he'll call you tomorrow."

The younger man looked reassured. "Good. glad to hear that. Hope she can talk to him."

Mac nodded. "Hawkes has been looking over your car..."

"I was telling Stella, the brakes failed on me... which pisses me off, 'cause I only had them checked a week ago."

"It wasn't your fault, or any fault in the car."

Danny gazed at him for a moment, Lindsay too, both of them processing what he had just said. "You mean..."

"Someone cut the brake lines on the car."

"Someone _what?_" Danny's face screwed up; had the situation not been so serious, his expression would have been comical. Lindsay's face, however, froze and the colour drained from her skin.

"Who? Why? What's going on, Mac?" she looked at him, and then at Stella. "What's going on?" she repeated. "Is there something we don't know about?"

Stella lifted her eyes to meet Mac's, and he guessed at what she was wanting him to do. Giving her a slight nod, he relayed in brief the warning his friend had given him earlier.

It took a few moments of silence for Lindsay and Danny to absorb the information, and then anger descended onto Lindsay's face, whilst Danny's still displayed bewilderment.

"Someone _threatened_ the team? What's happening, Mac? Is there anything else you're holding back? Why didn't you tell us this before? This could have been avoided!"

Danny, moving stiffly, laid his hand on her arm. "Linds... "

She shook him off though, and faced Mac angrily, pushing her hair out of her face. "What are you going to do about this? Is whoever did this to Danny going to try again? Who's next, Mac? You? Stella? Sheldon?"

"This isn't Mac's fault..." Stella began, a defensive note in her voice.

Mac put his hand quickly on her shoulder, and interrupted. "Lindsay, I know you're angry and upset..."

"Upset?" she turned away, shaking her head, her hand to her mouth. "Danny could have been _killed!_"

"Linds, I'm alive. A little beat up, but I'll live. Whoever's responsible for this, ain't sitting in this room, okay?"

Mac frowned at Danny's words, the implication hitting him hard, along with what Lindsay had said moments before, about who could be next. If he had anything to do with it, no one was going to be next. No one else was going to get hurt; they would have to get past him first. He had not sabotaged Danny's car, but he was responsible for his team and their safety. Sending a quick glance towards Stella, he met her eyes and saw sympathy there.

Lindsay sat down on the bed beside Danny, her shoulders slumped. Moving his arm stiffly, Danny placed it round her shoulders, and kissed her cheek. "Hey. I'm okay, takes more than a prang to take me out. Still got too much to do with my wife and baby girl... "

Lindsay's head shot up then, and she stared at Stella her eyes wide. "Lucy... Stella, did you...?"

"I called and your mom's on her way, Danny."

"With Luce?"

Mac smiled to himself at the eagerness in the new father's voice.

"So she said," Stella replied with a warm smile.

Danny flopped back onto the pillows. "I just want to give her a hug..." there was a crack in his voice as he spoke, and his eyes were suspiciously bright. But he cleared his throat and continued. "Then maybe I can get out of here. Is going home to be with my family too much to ask?"

"I'll see what we can work out," Mac answered, relieved at the dispersal of some of the tension in the room. He looked round at all of them then. "And I'm going to give you my word that the safety of everyone is my highest priority."

"Never doubted it, Boss," Danny said, whilst Lindsay nodded with a weak smile. Stella's response was a look which told him everything he needed to know.

There was no time for any more to be said as a clatter outside the door was heard, and Danny's mother burst through, a wailing Lucy in her arms. For several minutes the room became a whirlwind of sound, and Mac stepped back to allow the extended Messer family some space.

Stella, joining him so they both stood with their backs to the door, smiled reassuringly. "I have an idea..."

A short time later, and Mrs Messer was being settled with a cup of tea and Stella's calming words, whilst Mac paced up and down the corridor outside Danny's room with Lucy in his arms.

He found himself murmuring to the baby girl, losing his self-consciousness even as he was aware of people passing him. The soft whimpers from her soon died away and her eyes began to flutter and close, even as she fought sleep. Mac chuckled at the determination in her face as she screwed her features up and tried to fix her blue eyes on his face. They refused to stay open, however, and her long lashes soon settled onto her cheeks. As he rubbed her back gently, it seemed the natural thing to do to lay her head on his shoulder. His feet led him up and down the corridor in what he hoped was a rhythm conducive to sleep, and he soon lost track of anything else but the soft scent of the baby on his shoulder and her little sleeping murmurs. It was only as he turned that he became aware that there was someone else close by.

"Hey," Stella said softly, a small smile on her lips. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he answered truthfully, and her smile widened.

"You look very comfortable like that." Approaching quietly, she came to stand by him and stroked Lucy's downy head with her fingers. "She's fast asleep. How'd you do it?"

Mac felt his lips quirk. "Guess I just got a knack."

"I guess you have... So next time I can't sleep, I know the right person to call, huh?" Her mouth curved into a smile and her eyes gleamed, and Mac felt himself unable to look away.

"I thought not sleeping was my speciality?"

Stella's fingers brushed against his hand as she continued to soothe the sleeping baby.

"You've certainly made an art of it," she turned a steady gaze on him, but with tenderness in her eyes. "This little girl doesn't seem to have a problem though." Caressing the baby's cheek, she whispered to her. "Don't take after your Uncle Mac, you hear me Lucy? Otherwise mommy and daddy are _not_ going to be happy..."

Flashing a mischievous grin at him, Stella moved so that their shoulders were touching; in her heels, her height was almost equal to his, and he was suddenly powerfully aware of how close she was to him. Shifting a little, carefully adjusting Lucy, he tried to cover his increased heartbeat.

"May I?" Stella raised her eybrows.

Mac grinned, glad of the diversion. "Sure. Just don't undo my hard work and wake her up."

"Come on, Mac. Don't you trust me?"

"Absolutely..."

He lifted the sleeping baby off his shoulder and passed her to Stella who cradled her against her chest, rocking her gently. Looking at her, Mac felt a sudden rush of feeling, and could not tear his gaze away. When she raised her eyes, she gave him an almost shy smile, and there was a loaded silence between them for moments.

"You also look very comfortable like that," Mac finally said in a low voice.

"I am," was her simple reply.

He smiled, and standing at Stella's side, he enjoyed the sight of her holding his goddaughter in her arms and the comfort of her closeness.

* * *

_Lily wrote some fluff! Yes, she was responsible for the ending :P It doesn't happen often, the fluff that is, so please review and let us know what you thought! Thank you, Lily and Forest x_


	8. Another Day, Another Body

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Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt.

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! Plenty more action and drama coming up, as well as time with our favourite pairings. Also apologies to our American readers, being British we let our vocabulary shine through, the last chapter should of course have referred to a windshield, not windscreen - thanks to conche for pointing it out._

_Thank you to Chapter 3 and Chapter 4 for the reviews on the respective chapters._

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Chapter 8 - Another Day, Another Body

Day: **12**

Opening Scene: Crime Scene -East side

Time of Day: 6 am

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly Opens

Heads of Government General Debate (less than 1 week's time)

* * *

"Hey, Don. How are you?"

Lindsay greeted the tall and currently glum-faced Detective as she strode up to him, her kit swinging in her hand. It was a balmy September day, Lucy had slept well the night before for the first time in too many weeks, and she was looking forward to an evening out for Danny and herself as his mother had offered to babysit. It would be a chance to spoil her husband in the wake of his accident two days previously. It had taken a toll on both of them, and they were more than ready for an evening together, just the two of them. As much as she was enjoying that promise, when she looked at Don's face, her heart sank a little. There was not a trace of good humour present.

"Everything okay?" she asked cautiously, setting her kit down.

"Yeah, just great. Another day, another body. Peachy," he snarled and Lindsay bit her lip, keeping back the retort she wanted to throw at him. Instead, she kept her voice and features neutral.

"What have we got?"

"Seems to be along the same lines as the previous two vics connected with the UN General Assembly, specifically the British delegation," Flack told her, almost spitting the last few words, as he motioned with his pen at the body laid out in front of him: a woman in her early fifties, smartly dressed in a business suit, strangled and stabbed to death. "Found a couple hours ago. Seems to be the same MO as the first two, which leads me to make the link."

Hawkes joined them, and looked Flack up and down. "You doing okay, Don?"

Flack rolled his eyes, and Lindsay waited anxiously for what might come back at the Doctor. However, Flack had apparently realised he would not be able to rile Hawkes so easily, and answered him simply. "Doing okay. Should be asking you that though, Doc."

It was Hawkes' turn to roll his eyes. "You think I haven't been asked that question enough recently?"

A small grin crossed Flack's face, which almost caused Lindsay to breathe a sigh of relief, "Figured one more time wouldn't hurt you... How's Danny?" he asked suddenly, turning to Lindsay, who had been wondering when he was going to make enquiries about his best friend.

"He's okay; a little sore, and impatient."

A ghost of a smile crossed the detective's face. "Good to know... Okay, so yeah, seems we got ourselves another vic connected to Stratton. Found a business card with Natalia Hunt's name on it in her briefcase, so guess I'd better warn you to be expecting her to be showing up any time soon."

"Really?" Lindsay raised her eyebrows, feigning ignorance of the situation that seemed to have arisen between Flack and the British Liaison Officer. She had heard from Danny some of the story behind Flack's mood the last two weeks, since the Stratton case and the involvement with the British Delegation to the UN, and a certain Liaison Officer. Would it be wrong, she wondered to herself suddenly, to hope that Miss Natalia Hunt would make an appearance at the crime scene? The reason being, she knew, was to see if the woman lived up to all that Flack had complained about her, and also to see some emotion from her friend. She couldn't stop a grin at the thought, before noticing both Flack and Hawkes staring at her. Stifling it, she fussed over her kit and announced that she would take the perimeter.

"Fine by me," Hawkes shrugged, and they set to their task. Flack hovered for a moment, before wandering off to speak to the handful of uniforms that were guarding the scene. After a few minutes of silent concentration, Lindsay glanced around to make sure Flack was safely out of earshot before calling out to her colleague.

"Have you met the woman Flack's so pissed about?"

Hawkes grinned. "What have you heard?"

A smile crossed her face. "You tell first. What's gotten into him? It seems to be really bugging him. The whole situation."

Speaking as he continued to drop evidence carefully into bags, Hawkes looked thoughtful. "It's a clash of personalities, from all I've heard. Flack's also resenting her interference as he sees it, and the fact that he seems to be of the opinion that the Brits are out to block us at every turn, which is not what anyone else thinks. My guess is things have been made worse by him getting into the situation he did last week when he got himself drunk, and ended up being taken home by Mac and Stella. They've said little about it, but word got out somehow. Apparently, Natalia Hunt was the one who called Mac."

"How'd that happen?" Lindsay's eyebrows shot up. She had heard about the incident from Danny, who had heard it from someone else before needling more of the story out of Flack himself. It seemed he had missed an important detail, however, and she wanted to know more.

"Unfortunate, or fortunate coincidence," Hawkes continued. "Seems they ended up drinking in the same bar; Don had several too many, Miss Hunt tried to help him, which backfired, so she called Mac. You know the rest."

Lindsay winced. "Ouch. That's got to have hurt him."

"Hurt his pride more than anything..." Their conversation stopped as Lindsay nudged Hawkes, having seen Don making his way over.

However, there was just time for her to mutter in an undertone to the Doctor. "We'll continue this later..."

"You guys got anything useful to tell me?" Flack snapped as he stood over them, his bad mood suddenly returned. He kept his eyes carefully averted from the blood pools, Lindsay noted.

Once again, she chose to ignore his tone and answered him neutrally. "Similar stab wounds to Stratton, far as I can tell, but this one also shows signs of strangulation. Sid should be able to tell us more when we get her over to the morgue."

"Got a few fibres and a heel print. Not much else though," Hawkes offered with a shake of his head. "Scene's pretty clean."

"Same as the last two," Flack sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "_Dammit._ This is not good. Not good at all. Isn't it enough that we got the streets crawling with more secret service personnel than the J Edgar Hoover building and security on the highest alert imaginable? I'm telling you, I really don't need this kind of case."

"Nor does anyone. You're not the only one under pressure, Don," Hawkes spoke up, and Lindsay caught her breath at the irritation underlying his voice. It was a rare thing to hear, and it shocked her. Seemingly, from the widening of Flack's eyes, it had caused the same reaction in him.

"You want to clarify what you're saying there?" he finally said in a dangerously level voice.

Hawkes stood up slowly and faced Flack, whilst Lindsay remained crouched on the ground, looking between the two of them.

"Yeah, I'll clarify, Don. We're all under pressure here, the whole department, the whole of the lab."

"You're saying I don't know that?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying..." Hawkes looked suddenly uncomfortable, and Lindsay imagined he was regretting starting the whole conversation. Don was not in the sort of mood for discussions about pressure. It was time to intercede.

"Hey, boys, this is not the time nor the place for this," she stood up and placed herself between them. "In case it had escaped your notice, we have a crime scene to finish processing. Flack, maybe you ought to call Mac, he's going to want to know about this."

Hawkes threw her a grateful look; Flack glared at her.

"Fine, Monroe. I'll call him, add a little more pressure to him. Sure he'll have plenty of happy words for me on that."

"Well you'll just have to suck it up won't you?" she snapped back, suddenly losing patience with his attitude. "It's not our fault."

Muttering incoherently, Flack turned on his heel and stomped off. Lindsay stared after him, then turned back to Hawkes with a sigh, and the smallest tremble in her lips. He smiled sympathetically, warmth in his brown eyes.

"Don't worry about it, Lindsay. He'll get over this soon enough."

"Yeah, I know... He seemed to be getting over things a little more," she pushed her hands through he hair, and gave him a weak smile. "Maybe things didn't go well with his sister the other night, or else Danny's accident's the cause. Let's hope for everyone's sake it doesn't last much longer."

"It won't," Hawkes reassured her. There was silence for a moment, and Lindsay bit her lip hard.  
Crouching back down to the body of the woman in front of her, she looked over to where Flack was standing with his phone held to his ear and an unreadable look on his face. Suddenly feeling tired and tearful, she sighed. Until she thought of Lucy, and the image of her little girl returned some peace of mind. She only wished Flack could regain his.

Hawkes spoke again, causing her to lift her head and dash her hand across her eyes.  
"So how's Danny coping with being at home?"

She smiled suddenly. "Getting frustrated with not being at work, but enjoying spending time with his daughter."

"I guess he would. Tell him I'll call round, if he's up to a visitor?"

"He'd like that."

During Hawkes's convalescence, Danny had entertained the Doctor and kept him buoyed up during darker times. She knew Sheldon would want to do something to return the favour, and that Danny would appreciate his company. "You're welcome any time."

Smiling at Hawkes, she felt some her confidence restored as well. They were part of a good team; it would take a lot to break them.

* * *

Natalia entered the delegation offices around 8.30, stopping off to see their senior security officer on her way past.

"Morning Jim."

"Tali, late again? ... It's kind of becoming a habit lately."

"Don't ask. ... OK if you really must know I've been at a breakfast meeting with the head of the Marine detachment who'll be in charge of the PMs visit. I'm going to meet with him again later at the hotel and I could use your input. .. Along with that I got several calls from an irate Detective Flack mouthing off about another body with delegation connections and I needed to get down to some warehouse on the East side, but as far as I can tell everyone is accounted for, which was sort of confirmed when I eventually got a call saying my presence wasn't required and I'm sure he enjoyed doing that too, wish I knew what I'd done to piss the guy off." She rambled hurriedly in reply to the cheery greeting. Jim laughed. "You're getting some perverse pleasure from this aren't you?" Natalia couldn't help but return a grin. "He's not my type and you know it."

"I'm not saying anything. I just know you Tali, I watched you grow up remember." He didn't need to say anymore, he had made his point. She sighed, her love life was pretty tame compared to many, and to be fair it was how she liked it and the fatherly security officer knew it too. Natalia and Jim's paths had crossed a few times in his career. He had worked with her father and later with her when she followed in his footsteps. Unlike her father however she was not a high flier, she hated the wheeling and dealing that went on with the more political jobs, her forte was usually running the offices and in Consular work and she had excelled at it, which was what landed her the new position in the Delegation of Liaison Officer. It was a fancy title for someone who basically had the logistical nightmare of organising everything for visiting dignitaries, liaising with local security, their main consulate and the Embassy in Washington and any other organisation deemed necessary; in this case NYPD. She had been working there for nearly three years and had already proved her role to be beneficial, so the role would continue with a new incumbent when she eventually moved on the following summer.

"Well I'd better go get sorted ready for the morning briefing." She said after a moment of contemplation.

"Before you do, this was dropped off for you earlier."

Natalia took the envelope which Jim held out to her and looked at it curiously. "Hand delivered?"

"About 6 am apparently, they said it was urgent."

"Who dropped it? There's no return address. ... You scan it?"

"Of course. It's just a letter Tali." Jim was the only one who called her that, he'd picked it up years before after hearing her family use it. Despite the difference in their ranks, Jim and her father had been good friends for a long time. Her father now approaching retirement with Jim to follow at the end of his current assignment in New York, she was feeling the changes to the service. She had seen a lot in her time, even more than some of her counterparts. She was beginning to feel jaded now though; after 15 years things didn't seem the same anymore. The constant packing and moving allowed little in the way of opportunities for lasting friendships and romance.

She turned her attention back to the letter in her hands; something about it didn't feel right, it was setting off alarm bells in her head. Had she been spending too much time around the NYPD? She turned it over in her hands and reached across Jim's desk and snagged his letter opener and expertly slit the seam. She eased the letter out, trying not to touch it too much. It contained a single folded A4 sheet of paper. The single paragraph in large bold letters immediately caused her to drop it on the desk.

"What is it?"

"I need an envelope or plastic bag or something. Detective Taylor needs to see this."

Jim seemed to realise the significance and held up two large envelopes. Natalia pinched the corner of the letter and slipped it into one and its envelope into the other and sealed them both.

"Now what?" Jim asked her.

"I'm going out. Can you let Sir John know that I've had to go to the NYPD and I'll speak to him when I get back?"

Jim nodded. "Wouldn't it be better to get them to send someone to collect it?"

"I can have it at the lab quicker. I'll be back as soon as I can." She took the envelopes and left, pulling out her phone as she did so.

* * *

Arriving at the Crime Lab Natalia quickly had herself signed in and was soon stepping off the elevator on the 35th Floor to find Mac waiting for her.

"Natalia. Welcome back. I hadn't expected to hear from you today."

"I appreciate you sparing the time at such short notice. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"My office," Mac directed her to it and closed the door once they were inside. He held his hand out for her to take a seat. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm not sure it's for me," she faced Mac and held out the envelopes which he took with a curious glance. "I hope I've done the right thing. They contain a letter and envelope that were delivered to my office this morning. I'm not sure how many prints are on the envelope in addition to mine and our security officer's; the letter only has mine on it, although something made me suspicious and I was careful to only handle it around the edges."

He eyed her with a little amusement. But clearly her attempt at protecting the evidence was appreciated. "Why the need to-"

She knew what he was going to ask and cut him off. "You should take a look at the letter, I think you'll find it self explanatory."

Mac nodded. "Come with me." He led her from his office into one of the labs where a young man was busy drumming on the counter while singing along to the music playing from the Ipod headphones trailing from his ears. He was rather .. well, unusual in his appearance, if she was forced to describe him. His hair was bordering on long and shaggy and he suddenly seemed gawky and nervous when Mac announced his presence and quickly introduced them. "Adam Ross, Natalia Hunt. Adam I need you to take the contents of these envelopes and run them for prints and trace," he announced as he expertly pulled on a pair of gloves and extracted the contents onto a space on the counter. Carefully manipulating the letter to an upright position he cast an expert eye over the text. After taking a moment to digest the content he turned to Adam. "I want a copy of this and email a copy to Flack, ask him to call me when he gets it." Finally turning to Natalia who was loitering back by the door. "You were right to do this. We can talk a little more in my office," he stated as he ushered her into the corridor. "Adam, this gets top priority," he cast over his shoulder as he left the lab.

* * *

Stella walked into Mac's office and looked around, finding it empty. Having seen him only a short while ago, apparently in conference with the British Liaison Officer linked to the Stratton case, she knew he was in the lab. Dropping the files she carried onto the growing pile on his desk, she sighed. With Danny out injured, Lindsay had been forced to work a call out early that morning with Hawkes, because she and Mac had been working another case across town at the same time. They really needed some extra hands to pick up the slack, and the new CSI Mac was hiring needed to be brought in pretty quickly to ease the stress they were all under, the only problem with that, however, was the budget cuts which had plagued them for most of the year. It still wasn't clear if they were going to be able to pay the salary for a new person. They had already lost a couple of lab techs and even though they had all clubbed together a year before to save Adam's job, his position was still far from certain...

"Stella. Glad you're here." Being so caught up in her thoughts, she had not even heard Mac's approach; but she turned to him with a wry smile at the tone of his voice.

"Really? You don't sound it. Natalia and Flack going at it again? That was her I saw talking with you, right?"

"Yeah. She's not the problem, in fact she was just here with something new."

Stella raised her eyes at him in surprise. "Something new? What in the way of?"

"This." Mac handed over a piece of paper. It only took a moment for her to read the few lines printed on it.

_**The net is closing Detective Taylor, **_

_**we're preparing for our final assault.**_

_**We can strike at the heart of the NYPD, **_

_**the Diplomatic Community or the city.**_

_**No one is immune, your injured CSI can tell you that.**_

_**I advise you all to watch your backs.**_

"What the hell? Someone's threatening us?" A look of fury crossed her face, reflecting the anger seething inside her. "This is too much, Mac!" she shook her head, and then a realisation struck her, leaving her hot and cold with anger. "You think this came from the guys that sabotaged Danny's car? And if so, why have they sent it via the British Delegation?"

"I think we're about to find out," he replied grimly, "We've had two more bodies in two days, and what ever it is they're planning it's going to happen soon and with all the dignitaries about to arrive, the General Debate is the prime opportunity."

"But we've already increased security to unprecedented levels!"

"A determined terrorist with a plan can still bring this city to its knees. We both know that," Mac stated sombrely, and Stella guessed that his thoughts had for a moment cast him back to that fateful day in 2001 when thousands lost their lives. Including the one that had been dearest to him.

"I know... I guess I just don't want to believe it," she shook her head again and pursed her lips, letting the piece of paper dangle from her fingertips.

"None of us do, but we need to face the reality... and I'm not about to stand by and let them inflict more pain and suffering on this city."

"Neither am I..."

Interrupting her, both their phones rang simultaneously with new text messages. They glanced at them quickly, and then at each other.

"New body."

Mac was reaching for his jacket as Stella was already swinging out his office ahead of him. "You know it."

They headed out to whatever their latest crime scene might have to offer them.

_

* * *

_

So another body linked to the UN and Flack in a bad mood again. Let us know what you think .... Lily and Forest x


	9. Going to plan

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! Plenty more action and drama coming up, as well as time with our favourite pairings. _

_Thank you to _conch_e for your review, we really enjoyed reading it, sorry we couldn't send a proper reply._

**Chapter 9 - Going to plan **

Day: 12

Opening Scene: A Dingy Apartment

Time of Day: Mid Morning

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly Opens

Heads of Government General Debate (less than 1 week's time)

* * *

The dingy apartment saw the last gathering of the four before D-day, all of them there to make a final check on their plans. They arrived soberly dressed and carrying large black holdalls, which landed one by one with a thud on the floor as they entered the hallway and passed through into a small lounge.

The apartment had served its purpose well. Access was via a discreet back entrance down an alleyway, in a rather run-down neighbourhood known for its population of drug addicts and alcoholics. It had been Deena's arrangement and, as always, her organisation had been faultless. No one had bothered or questioned them, allowing them to come and go as they pleased. The rental agreement was in the name of a drug addict under an obligation to Carson for a steady supply of crack cocaine, and had been drawn up to evade any connection to them. As far as could be ascertained, there was nothing about the apartment or its paperwork that could be traced back to them. It contained no furniture other than a set of dilapidated chairs and a table, and apart from the stale cigarette butts and faintly musty smell, nothing else showed it had ever been occupied.

As was customary, Deena led the way into the lounge. Once inside, whilst her companions settled themselves in the chairs, she hurriedly swept the debris on the table into a black bin bag and deposited it by the door. She swept her eyes over the three men as she sat herself down, maneuvering herself into a position so the light was behind her. It enabled her to see the others clearly, whilst they had to shade their eyes and squint at her. A small smile flickered at the corners of her mouth as she enjoyed their discomfort.

"Tell me where we're up to," she demanded, knowing full well, but wanting to make sure everyone else did.

Carson took the lead, pulling out a wad of papers and handing a small bundle out to each of them.

"First off, letter was sent this morning to Taylor, which should mislead them all nicely. I made sure I got a good set of prints from our drugged up friend Drew on the paper which will direct them even further away from us, and from them."

"The message and the scene?"

"Sent and set up. They should be on their way as we speak. Everything's in place, they won't get a chance to put up a fight."

Deena nodded at him; Carson at least she could trust to do an efficient and competent job. If only the other two could be relied upon as much. Thinning her lips, she looked at them.  
"And your side of things, gentlemen?"

Ali and Dirk glanced at each other, before Ali spoke.

"Going to plan. Everyone knows what they have to do. The equipment's checked and ready. It's all good."

Letting an uncomfortable silence fall for a minute, Deena looked at the faces of each of her companions in turn. In Carson's she saw a reflection of her own emotions; excitement at the fruition of long laid and careful plans. In the other two she saw more than a trace of nervousness.

She did not tolerate nervousness.

With a deceptively sweet smile, she faced Dirk and Ali. "Just a friendly reminder before we all go our separate ways, gentlemen. This is our one and only chance. Screw this up and you're finished. I'm not going to hold your hands through this. You do this right."

There was silence apart from the sounds of rapid breathing from Dirk and the clatter of Ali's fingernails on the arm of his chair.

She walked to the door, turned and faced the room.

"And if you fail me, your lives won't be worth living. I will see you gentlemen at the appointed rendezvous as planned." With that she threw one of the black holdalls over her shoulder and departed.

* * *

As Mac skillfully maneuvered their vehicle through the city traffic, Stella once again scanned the text message they had received a short while before. "You know Mac, for all the ways people kill each other in this city, I can't get my head around the need for stabbing or shooting our vics as well as killing them with a meat skewer."

"Now Stella, you know we haven't confirmed a meat skewer was the actual murder weapon."

"No, but it's possible."

"Okay, I'll give you that, it's possible," he glanced out of the side window. "You got the address? We must be somewhere close."

"Couple of blocks should do it. West Side Rail Yard is just up ahead... You know, it's a shame that redevelopment plan fell through, it could really have done something for this area. I hate coming down here it's kind of creepy."

Mac cast her a quick amused glance as she screwed up her forehead in concentration. "The tough city detective is creeped out by a few old buildings?" he smirked.

"Come on Mac, you know the sort of cases we get round here. Drug dealers and prostitutes, how many have we had in the last year alone?"

"A few..."

"A _few?_ Mac, I can't even count the number of times I've been called to this stretch of road anymore!"

"Looks like we're here," Mac deflected her, taking his hand from the wheel momentarily to point at the derelict stretch of land underneath the raised rail lines.

Stella followed Mac's direction and looked at the area, then looked at her text message again with a frown. "This is where it says... but shouldn't there be a few units here already? I can't see anyone."

"They'll be here."

"Shouldn't we wait for back-up?" she demanded, "Remember what you said about treading carefully? After what happened to Danny..."

Mac shook his head as he turned the vehicle onto the deserted stretch of broken road towards the end of the lot.

"I checked the car over before we left. And yes, I remember exactly what I said, but it's looking like rain Stella, and I'd rather not risk the evidence if it starts before anyone gets here. We need all the help we can get... We're partners, we've got each others backs."

"Still doesn't feel right Mac," Stella shook her head and fixed him with a look. He knew what she said made sense, but a sudden impatience overtook him, even as the memory of what he had said to Lindsay in Danny's hospital room surfaced. He was responsible for his team, yes, and that would always be paramount, but as he justified it to himself, there was nothing in sight that warranted any suspicion. And more importantly, he was not going to let a spurious threat stop him doing his job. That would do more harm, he argued with himself.

"We'll be just fine," he answered pulling the SUV to a stop behind one of the pillars supporting the rail line above their heads.

After a thoughtful look at him, Stella shrugged slightly. "It's your call." As she went to the rear of the vehicle to retrieve their cases, Mac cast his eyes round searching for signs of a body, leaving the engine still running.

* * *

Natalia entered the foyer outside the Medical Examiners office and reported to the security desk. The security guard on duty looked at her carefully.

"Can I help you?"

"Dr Hammerback is expecting me, Natalia Hunt from the British Delegation to the UN." At that moment the doors at the side swung open and the man in question stepped through holding a file which he was studying intently as he walked. Hearing the guard clear his throat he looked up, but addressed Natalia.

"Miss Hunt, thank you for coming down so quickly. Come through to my office and we can sign the papers and make the arrangements."

"Thank you Dr Hammerback."

"Sid, please," he replied as he lead her through the halls to his office adjacent to the morgue. Offering her a seat he picked up the file from a tray on his desk. He watched as she sat in the visitors chair, then he perched on the edge of his desk in front of her. "I've discussed everything with Detective Taylor and the DA, and as I explained on the phone we can release Michael Stratton's body for repatriation."

She couldn't prevent the sigh she released and the look of relief which washed over her. "Thank you. I half expected things to change when I got here."

"It's a tragic fact that we have two more bodies killed by the same hand, so everyone agrees we don't need to prolong the family's suffering. Have you named a funeral home to make the transfer?"

"I followed your advice and spoke to Davenport's. All they need is a call from you to .. to collect Michael's body. If you're happy they can have him on tonight's flight. The Foreign Office will arrange everything on arrival at Heathrow."

"I'll make the call right now while you look over the release and sign it. If you have any questions I'll be back in a moment." Sid handed her a clipboard with some typed pages and a pen. She realised that her shaking hands had not escaped his attention as she took the items but he left anyway, and she was grateful for the chance to control her emotions.

When he returned she was still sitting in the same position the board on her lap.

"I spoke to Martin Davenport, they'll be here in an hour. Is everything okay with the release?" he asked gently.

Her head bobbed as she replied, her voice hoarse. "Fine. ... I'm sorry, I just can't believe this has happened. That-"

"It's OK if you need some time you can sit here for a while. Can I get you something? A cup of tea maybe?"

"No, but thank you. I need to get back to the office and send details to London, it's almost the end of the day there and if I don't get the message through before the welfare office closes it'll be harder for them to make the arrangements with the airport."

Aware of Sid watching her, she scanned the papers and scrawled her signature at the bottom. Her hands were still shaking when she handed them back to him.

"Was he a good friend?" he asked.

"We met about ten years ago when we were posted to Jordan. Our paths have crossed a few times since then. ... I'm godmother to his daughter, she's four. ... I'm sorry, I've taken enough of your time, I'll let you get back to work." She rose slowly from the chair and moved towards the door. Sid was about to turn back to his paperwork when she stopped in the doorway and turned back to him.

"Would you thank everyone for me, for arranging this, you don't know what it will mean to the family."

"I think I have a pretty good idea. ... You take care of yourself."

"Thanks... You're a good man Sid."

"I do my best. ... If you need anything else you know where to find me."

Natalia nodded and walked away.

* * *

Three bodies: all with the same MO, all linked to the UN. This was becoming more than a political nightmare, Flack realised; this was becoming a spider's web of too many threads. Murder, lies, confusion threats... And he and Mac's team were fast becoming tangled up in it all with no means of escape as far as he could see. Failing to suppress a groan, he pressed his hand to his forehead, and wondered for a ridiculous moment about covering his eyes and pretending that if he could not see the body a few yards in front of him, then it would not exist; the whole case would not exist.

He knew that was not going to happen though. Taking out his cell and weighing it in his palm for a moment, he hit Mac's number. And waited. As it rang, he looked over at Hawkes and Lindsay, and felt a twinge of guilt at how he had spoken to both of them. Especially Lindsay, who was under the strain of what had happened to Danny.

Even though he knew they had his best interests at heart, the trouble was, that was part of the problem. The last thing he wanted was his friends and colleagues thinking that he was in need of their help; he knew they all had their own difficulties, not least that they were all still coming to terms in their different ways with Jess's death and Hawkes's injury.

His phone kept ringing. No one answered.

"Come on, Mac," he muttered under his breath as it went to voicemail. Not wanting to leave a message, as he felt unable to muster up the energy to speak to an answering service, Flack ended the call and strode back over to the two CSIs.

"You done here?" he was well aware that his speech was at best terse, and at worst, bordering on rude, but he could not help himself.

Hawkes gave him a strange look, but made no comment other than to answer him, equally shortly.

"We're done. Lindsay?"

"Done. The coroner can take the body."

"Right," Flack nodded, and waved over the appropriate personnel. There was silence between the three as they watched the body being taken away. It was Lindsay who broke it finally.

"You get hold of Mac?"

"Nope."

"Might have been driving out to a scene," Hawkes offered. "You try Stella?"

Flack huffed as he took out his phone again, irritated at not having had the thought himself first.

"Trying her now."

The coroner's van drove away and the two CSIs packed up the rest of their kits and evidence bags.

There was no answer from Stella; he hit voicemail again, and once again left no message.

He frowned as Lindsay and Hawkes hovered, kits in hand.

"No answer?"

"Not as such..."

Flack dialled Mac's number again and listened with growing frustration to the phone ringing and ringing.

"One of them should be answering, surely?" Lindsay looked perturbed, "Call the lab, find out where they're supposed to be."

Hawkes already had his phone out and was soon carrying on a rapid conversation. As he ended the call, Flack raised his eyebrows at him.

"Yeah?"

Hawkes tapped his phone against his chin, and his face was creased into a frown. "They had a call to a scene on the West Side highway, left over half an hour ago. No one's got anything more specific than that."

"So they should be there by now, right?" Lindsay looked between the two men, and Flack felt his concern growing by the second. Something felt wrong.

"Should have been there in fifteen, tops... Doc, keep trying Stell, I'll try Mac. Lindsay, see if you can find out any more about this scene they're supposed to be at."

Fifteen minutes and a plethora of phonecalls later, and not one of them had been able to establish contact with either of their colleagues, or discover exactly who had sent them to the scene.

"Okay..." Flack took a deep breath as he faced Lindsay's and Hawkes's worried faces. "So we can't get a hold of either of them, and no one's heard anything from them since they left the lab. Also, no one seems to know who sent the message about the crime scene they were called to, and where exactly it is."

"What are you saying, Flack?" Lindsay pushed her hair out of her face as she looked up at him.

"I'm saying..." he paused, analysing the situation; missed phonecalls, a dubious crime scene message, no contact. Not a good combination. "I'm saying I'm concerned as of now. Meaning I'm going to head over to where this scene was supposed to be, see if I can find them and check up on them."

Lindsay glanced at Hawkes. "What can we do? Keep trying their cellphones?"

"You got it."

Flack was already striding away, and called his answer over his shoulder. Urgency gripped him, and his instinct was screaming at him that his friends were in trouble, serious trouble. He flung the car door open, sat down and yanked the seat belt on as he threw the car into drive.

As he sped away towards the west side, apprehension boiling inside his gut, his brain stayed fixed on only one thought.

Something was wrong.

* * *

Hawkes paced back and forth across the concrete; the sound of his phone ringing and ringing starting to echo in his head. As he glanced up for a moment, he could see Lindsay mirroring his movement a few yards away. Both of them had their phones pressed to their ears, and both of them were following the same objective; trying to contact Mac and Stella.

Trying and failing.

He had lost count of the number of times he had tried Mac's phone, and each time, it had rung the allocated number of times and then connected to his voicemail. From the expression on Lindsay's face, and the actions he could see from her, she was having the same experience trying to reach Stella.

Other than something going seriously wrong, Hawkes at that moment could come up with no other explanation as to why neither of them were answering; if they were driving to the scene, it only took one to drive, and for the other to be able to answer the phone. Similarly, if they were at the scene, and one was unable to take a call, then the other would do so. It was how it worked. It was now nearly an hour, going by the information they had received from the lab, since anyone had seen or heard from either the head of the lab or his second in command.

As he glanced over at Lindsay, Hawkes suddenly realised that they were going to have to face the possibility that the two CSIs were missing or injured. It was a possibility he did not know if they could face. It sent a cold, sick feeling right through his gut. Such a short time as well after another of their team had been injured, and lucky to escape with his life. And still not so long since he had faced the same himself. He shook his head; there had been too much inflicted on them all in recent months. But he was still hanging onto a thread of hope; that there was some perfectly logical and reasonable explanation for their non-contact. That, just possibly, both their phones had malfunctioned... or been switched off accidentally... or dropped. Or any other reason other than the worst.

"Who am I kidding?" he muttered to himself, and hit Mac's number again. And a few seconds later, reached his voicemail again.

* * *

"Come on, come on..." Flack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Oh for... Come on, _dammit!_" His hand slammed onto the dashboard, fury at his inability to find his friends almost overwhelming him. The rain which had started as a fine drizzle when he left his crime scene was now falling in torrents, and it twisted in silvery ropes down the windshield, distorting his vision; making it harder to search.

For the last half hour, he had been driving round in circles, so it seemed, doubling back and forth along the same long stretch of dockland, trying to spot anything that resembled Mac's black Avalanche. To no avail. There was no sign of either Mac's car, himself or Stella. Nothing. There was also no trace as yet on the now definitely bogus text messages that had been sent to the pair, although he knew that Ross back at the lab was working on that. As well as locating the car on the GPS system.

As he passed the same row of grey and brown buildings at the side of the river that he had passed three times in the last half hour, he gave in to his emotions and let out a yell of frustration and hit the dashboard again, harder.

"Where the _fuck_ are you? Come on! This is not happening... this is _not_ _happening!_"

He couldn't face it. He could not face it again. Not after losing Jess. Not after almost losing Sheldon Hawkes. Not after Danny's injuries. He could not face any more harm happening to his colleagues and friends.

Another yell escaped his lips, and he felt his throat ache with the anger and frustration pent up. Pulling over suddenly, he jerked the key out of the ignition and banged his fist on the steering wheel, again and again, until it hurt.

His head sank and his hands dropped to his thighs. For a minute he sat there; still, breathing, letting his thoughts subside.

And then his phone rang.

He grabbed it.

"What have you got?"

Adam Ross's voice answered him. "Got a signal and a location from the GPS in Mac's car..."  
A few seconds later and the car engine roared into life again; tyres screaming as they spun in the soaking wet grit on the road. Flack took off, his heart pounding. He knew exactly where he was going now, only a few hundred meters down the road. It took less than a minute before he was turning into a stretch of rain-swamped wasteground, screwing his eyes up to try and see through the lashings of rain. There was something he could just about make out through the nearly opaque windshield...

"Oh no... _No!_"

Pulling up in a spray of water, Flack jumped out of the car and ran.

* * *

_Who could possibly be responsible for the cliffhanger? *Lily whistles innocently* Please review and let us know what you think! It inspires our writing :D Thank you, Forest and Lily x_

_PS 'Beacons' and 'Old West' updated recently too!  
_


	10. Looking for Answers

_**Disclaimer:** We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_**Didi -** sorry we can't reply in person, but thank you for your review - I may be pointing out the obvious here, but if you kill us you won't get an update!_

**Lost in New York** - our endings should be illegal? - We loved that thought - it would be worth it to be arrested by our gallant heroes (particularly Don and Mac)!

**afrozenheart412** - Thank you for naming our bad guys -_**The Evil Quartet**__._

_**

* * *

**_**Chapter 10**** - Looking for Answers**

Day: 12

Opening Scene: West side rail yard

Time of Day: Mid Morning

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly Opens  
Heads of Government General Debate (less than 1 week's time)

* * *

Struggling to keep from falling as his feet slipped and slid on the rain-slicked ground, Flack charged over to the car left askew a few yards from the river. Mac's car; with no sign of either Mac or Stella or anyone else. It was immediately apparent that they had indeed been called to a hoax scene. There were no patrol cars, no uniformed officers, no police tape. No body, or bodies... That at least was something to be thankful for, he thought as he stopped at the truck and looked wildly around, trying to catch his breath.

His hair was plastered down over his scalp from the rain now blowing in sheets and swathing round him. It blurred his vision as the raindrops pelted into his eyes, but he could see enough to fill him with dread. The car was clearly abandoned; the engine left running, both front doors wide open, as well as the trunk; a silver kit dropped on its side a few feet away.

Feeling as if he was moving in a slowed-down unreality, Flack took a step closer. There was something on the ground, and as he toed it with his shoe carefully, moving it out a sludge of muddy water, he saw it was a phone. He crouched down, and pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, picked it up carefully. It was in two halves, the screen split and the casing cracked, but he still recognised it as Stella's, and his heart plummeted.

Wrapping it in his now muddy handkerchief and placing it in his pocket, he walked to the front of the vehicle, worst case scenarios tumbling through his mind - his friends attacked, injured... or worse. The keys were still in the ignition, and using the sleeve of his jacket, he turned them and the engine rattled into stillness. There was anything but silence though; the wind sighed and moaned, and the metallic beat of raindrops battering the car created a cacophony of nightmare. The foreboding inside him increased. There was no sign of anyone or anything but himself, the abandoned car and the downpour.

Flack swept rain off his face and walked away from the car.

"Mac? Stell?" He waited.

There was no answer.

"Stella! _Mac!_" He hollered, and found himself striding over the ground frantically, stopping every few steps to spin round and shout again.

"Mac! Answer me! Come on guys! _Stella! Mac!_"

But there was no answering call, and he knew he had not expected one. The stretch of ground was blank, and had no places to conceal anyone. There was no sound from any other living person but himself.

Holding his hands to his head, Flack groaned in fear and hurried back to his own car. There he put a call out to dispatch, informing them that Detectives Taylor and Bonasera were MIA, then he picked up his phone and called Hawkes.

A few minutes later, and he was back outside, uncaring of the rain, knowing he could not possibly get any wetter. The water had saturated him to his skin, but he could not care less. His friends were missing.

Flack breathed heavily as he made a more calculated search of the area whilst he waited for Hawkes and the back up he had ordered. The evidence was scant, and what little there was, was now severely compromised or destroyed by the rain; there was the truck, the kit, Stella's phone, and nothing else he could see. Any tire tracks or footprints were long washed away by the force of the rain. But there was a lot of ground to cover. And there was the river; a brooding expanse of navy water, the surface pocked by the rain as it heaved against the edge. His eyes were drawn to it and his footsteps slowed as the feeling of lead in his stomach increased. Suddenly his legs seemed to weaken and shake as he was drawn closer and closer to the edge as a possibility dawned in his mind. He looked down into the depths and struggled to breathe.

_No... They couldn't be... No..._

Stumbling backwards, he tried to draw his eyes and his mind away from the horror of the deep, dark water. Something caught under his heel then. Wiping water off his face and shaking his head furiously to clear some of the rain from it, he dropped down to see what it was. Another phone. Intact, but with a blank screen. Flack stared at it, and his hand hovered above it, before his fist clenched and he rose to his feet, bile rising in his throat at the implication.

Mac's phone. At the edge of the river. He and Stella missing...

Flack released a torrent of curses, his hands clutched to his head and strode away and then back again in a desperate fear.

This could not be happening. It could not. This _could not_ be real.

Not knowing what else to do, Flack bent down again to the phone, and then his eyes turned again to the river. Rain fell down his face and he could not move to wipe it away. He let it fall, let it drown him...

-----

Lindsay hurried into the lab and rounded up Sid, Adam and some of the lab techs. After everyone had gathered in the conference room, she called the noisy rabble to order and let out a deep breath before speaking. She placed her hands on her hips to hide the fact that they were shaking so much; aware that this was the first time she had taken charge. Normally Danny would be the next in line, but with him still recovering from the crash, and it being considered best that Hawkes was with Flack at the scene in case a doctor was needed, it fell to her. So not only was she addressing the whole of the lab personnel for the first time, but she had to deliver the bad news she had only just received herself, that the boss and his second in command were currently missing. After that she somehow had to motivate them and get them working again, and she hoped desperately that the circumstances would help her with that.

As she looked at the confused faces surrounding her, she knew they were wondering why she seemed to be taking centre stage. She was relieved that among them were the friendly faces of Sid and Adam. With a brief nervous glance at the ME, who smiled encouragingly at her, she drew another breath.

"I have some concerning news..." she began and everyone exchanged apprehensive glances. "At the moment it appears that Detectives Taylor and Bonasera are missing. ... They were called to the West Side Rail Yard earlier this morning, .... a call which we now believe to be a hoax. Adam has tracked the GPS for Mac's SUV and Detective Flack has found it abandoned in the same area as their call out."

A series of concerned murmurs echoed around the conference room. Lindsay could feel her stomach doing flip-flops as she fought to retain her own composure to deliver the message and get everyone working again. "Dr Hawkes is on his way to join the search which is being set up as we speak. Detective Flack is also still on scene."

"What's happened to them?" asked Adam, glancing nervously around the assembled crowd. A few echoes of his words followed from other people.

Lindsay shook her head, wishing she had the answer to that, or that someone would give it to her. "We don't know Adam. There were signs of a struggle, Flack has also called out divers to search the river in the area..." Horrified gasps followed the last statement, and Lindsay hurried on with her speech before her composure crumbled "I know you are all very concerned, but we need to keep things running here. Adam, for now, take whatever you think will be useful and join Hawkes. Sid, we need the autopsy report and any trace evidence we can get from the body this morning. It's another one with similarities to Stratton. For everyone else we need to focus on the case, and I know that's hard, but we cannot do anything for Mac and Stella at the moment here, and this is where Mac would want us to be, we have to figure out the link to the UN."

"Lindsay, are we bringing in anyone else?" Another question came from Adam.

"I've already passed over any new cases to Quinn Shelby in Jersey, she's also on hand to lend any support and advice we need. The top priority for this lab is the three cases connected to the UN and anything which comes in from Adam and Hawkes at the Rail Yard," Lindsay stopped speaking and stood with her hands on her hips as everyone stared at her without moving. She glared at them, and suddenly her fear boiled over into frustration. "What are you all standing around for, you know what you have to do, GET ON WITH IT!" she shouted. Quickly everyone filed out to go about their appointed tasks. Some threw her surprised looks as they departed; probably because they couldn't ever remember her shouting at anyone, except Danny. If she was honest, Lindsay had to admit that the shout had even surprised herself. It was a rare occurrence for her to raise her voice. That fact alone made her realise just how bad the situation was, and how much it was affecting the whole team already.

As soon as everyone had hurried away, Lindsay's commanding attitude deserted her and she flopped into a chair, exhausted. Adam, after giving her a look of sympathy and respect, rushed away with the others, to collect his gear. Sid was set to follow and then paused in the doorway.

"We'll get through this Lindsay. We all will, including Mac and Stella. Whatever's happened, they're resourceful and know how to get themselves out of a difficult situation," he peered over the top of his glasses at her, and then asked. "Has anyone told Danny yet?"

She looked up at the friendly ME, grateful for the calm reassurance he offered. As she looked at him she could tell that it was affecting him too, he looked tired and drawn and his skin was still pale from his recent illness. She felt awful for what this was doing to their team, the way they were suffering again because of the crime wave which the city was facing. Ever since May it had been one thing on top of another; losing Jessica Angell had been bad enough, but to almost lose Hawkes the same day and for Flack to still be suffering so badly.... And just as they were beginning to pick themselves back up again, the events of the last few days were threatening to topple them all; Danny's accident, and now Mac and Stella's disappearance. She really wished there was something that she could do to make it all right, to see her friends really smile again. To have them all safe around her. Blinking she realised Sid was still there, patiently waiting for an answer.

"No," she sighed. "I haven't told him, and I'm not looking forward to it. He's supposed to be resting, but- I guess it's probably better he hears it from me." She sighed again heavily, knowing just how he would take the news ... and how much attention he would pay to doctor's orders once he knew. Knowing Danny as well as she did, she was well aware that news like this would bring him straight to the lab to help, doctor's orders or not.

Sid gave her an understanding smile. "Danny's tough, he deserves to know, and you need his support too, even if it is from the end of the phone."

She nodded at Sid's words. He was right in a fatherly sort of way, and she was grateful that he was there to help them all through whatever was going on. He had a quirky, and sometimes misunderstood sense of humour, but could also give wise and measured counsel and that was exactly what they needed right now.

-----

Danny, lying back on the couch, propped up by cushions, grinned at his daughter. Lucy was in an equally supine position, amusing herself by tugging at the toys hanging from her baby gym.

"You having fun there, baby girl?" her proud father called to her, and she chuckled in response.

It brought a sigh from Danny though as he shifted uncomfortably, and resented his reduced mobility. The worst of it was not that he was taken away from his job, but that he was unable to indulge himself playing with Lucy. He could almost imagine that the look she was giving him now out of her blue eyes was a questioning one, wondering why her Daddy was not joining her on the floor to tickle her tummy or throw her up in the air and swoop her round the living room - only when Mommy was out of course.

That thought brought a small grin back to Danny's face, swiftly followed by a groan as he shifted again.

He hated the fact that Lindsay was having to take on more shifts, due to his absence. As much as he knew she loved her job the same way he did, he did not want to be the dependent one in the relationship, as he felt now. And even though he knew Lindsay would give him a kick in the pants for even thinking it, he felt it his role to provide for his wife and daughter. Instead, here he was lying on the couch, relying on Lindsay to look after most of Lucy's needs, and some of his needs, for at least the next few days. If he could have managed it, Danny would have taken his aggression out on his punch bag. However, he had to content himself with hammering his fists into one of the cushions that surrounded him.

Then he realised that Lucy was watching him with a look of what could be nothing but amusement. She chortled loudly, and smacked one of her toys. So hard, it spun round the top of the baby gym. Danny raised his eyebrows.

"Nice wrist action, Luce! You wait till Daddy's healed, and you're older, and we'll be out there pitching, you and me. We'll be the best team in the park..."

His phone interrupted him. Grimacing, he eased it out of his pocket and answered it, hearing Lindsay's voice on the other end. The tone of her voice immediately made him sit up, regardless of the discomfort.

"Linds... What's up? What's happened?"

He listened in growing horror as she told him, her voice breaking a few times as she relayed the latest disaster to befall the team.

"I'm coming in..." he started, and held up his hand, even though he knew she could not see him. "No, hear me out... Linds, you're short of people as it is, you're gonna need everyone you can get... I'm okay... Okay, maybe not great, but... Whatever, I'm not gonna argue with you... I'm coming in... Lucy's good, she's fine... Ma can look after her, I'll call her right now, she'll be here in ten... No, don't say anymore, I'll see you soon as."

He ended the call, cutting Lindsay off mid-flow, and feeling mean for doing so. Then he lay back for a moment and let a whoosh of breath out of his mouth. What his wife had just told him had stunned him - Mac and Stella missing? What was happening to them all? There had to be someone behind all of this... And he was not going to be absent from discovering who it was.

Danny shook his head and muttered to himself. "This is _not_ good..."

He stared at his phone, before dialling his mother's number. As he waited for her to pick up, he looked at Lucy again, who was completely oblivious to the drama that her parents were experiencing. She was carefree and happy. As she should be. And he knew that he would do everything to keep things that way.

------

"Don!"

Hawkes hurried across the waste ground, thankful that the heaviest rain seemed to have abated, but he still had to dodge the large puddles which dotted the area as he made his way towards the lonely figure crouching at the edge of the water. He could feel the water lapping the bottom of his pants as he failed to avoid one particularly deep gully, but he pressed on. He had noted the uniformed officers securing the scene and a van had pulled up alongside his own SUV bearing more bodies to aid the search. They knew what they had to do, that wasn't his concern, what worried him the most was the drenched figure currently ignoring the activity beginning around them. It didn't take much observation to note that Flack was soaking wet and completely despondent. The hunched shoulders and steely gaze gave it away.

Hawkes rested a hand on the detective's shoulder, feeling an involuntary shiver as he slowly turned his head and rose to his feet, turning to meet the worried face of the former ME. The doctor's trained eye picked up the haze of shock and despair on his friend's face. Acutely aware of Flack's earlier demeanour Hawkes knew it was vital that the detective was quickly engaged in some positive action before he gave in to the overwhelming depression which seemed to be engulfing him.

"Don... what's happened? Where are they?"

He shook his head and managed to choke out two words.

"They're gone..."

"Listen, back up's here, and they're going to need some direction, what can you tell us?" Hawkes waited for a moment, hoping he was allowing the detective time to gather his thoughts, but the almost vacant look in his eyes told him that a little directional questioning might be more appropriate. "Don, you were first here, we need to know what you know, what you saw." Don looked around slowly and then half nodded but didn't speak. "Was there anything besides the car here?"

Don looked around again and with his gaze fixed on Mac's SUV he rubbed his hand across his face attempting to remove the rain from his eyes. "No ... nothing, ... The engine was running, otherwise it's just as you see it. Wait... Stella's phone ... I got Stella's phone." He fumbled in his pocket and withdrew the muddy handkerchief and gave it to Hawkes, who looked at it then unwrapped it carefully and sighed when he saw the state of it. Wrapping it up again he pulled an evidence bag from his pocket and dropped the bundle into it.

"Any signs of a struggle?"

"Nah, too wet, you should have seen it..." he stopped as he glanced at his watch. "Half hour ago, it was worse than this," he shook his head, still dazed. "How could they just disappear?"

"We'll find them, there's probably a rational explanation for this."

Hawkes felt the detective's eyes drill into him. "Yeah, and right now not a good one."

"At least they're together and they're resourceful. Did you find their weapons or IDs?"

"Nope, just Mac's phone over there by the water. Seems intact, left it for you guys to pick up."

"Why did you pick up Stella's?" Hawkes asked, a quizzical look on his face, it didn't make sense to have picked up one but not the other, and there again, both should have been left for CSI to collect.

"Almost trod on it in the mud over there," Flack waved his hand towards the vehicle, "Figured it would be safer in my pocket."

Hawkes nodded; it was a logical explanation in light of the large pool of water the car appeared to be sitting in. It was clear the rain had quickly turned the area around them into something akin to a quagmire. It would have been almost comical watching the officers slide around if it weren't for the fact they currently had two missing detectives. He looked at Flack.

"Probably wise. I think the best thing is to get Mac's car shipped back to the lab for processing and getting photos of what we can, I just hope we can find something we can use."

"Good luck with that, 'cause right now Doc, it looks pretty hopeless."

Hawkes noticed the glazed look in the detective's eyes as he rested his hands on his hips and glanced around the waste ground. He paused for a moment as he mentally processed the conclusions they were coming to; that the lab boss and his second in command had been lured to the wasteland where they had been attacked and apparently abducted. Hawkes prayed that the search of the river would prove fruitless, at least then there was some hope that they were still alive. The team would not recover if they lost Mac and Stella, that was a certainty. He swallowed hard before he turned to Flack and rested a hand on his shoulder, acutely aware of his soaked clothes.

"There isn't anything you can do here now, why don't you go get dried off and meet us back at the lab? Maybe we'll have something by then which could use your expertise."

"I gotta be here."

"Don, you've done your bit, go get some dry clothes before you catch cold and I'll keep you in the loop on anything we find. I promise."

Hawkes waited while the detective scanned the scene again. The area was a haze of flashing lights through the mist as the area filled up with personnel, all involved in starting the search. Hawkes saw Don's brow furrow as the first divers took to the water, the splashes they made on entry hidden as the rain began to fall heavier once again.

"There's got to be something I can do ... anything, I can't just .. leave."

Hawkes could almost feel Flack's pain; on top of everything else to have two of his closest friends vanish must be affecting him badly, but as much as they could use the extra pair of hands, he wasn't trained the same way as the CSIs. There would be more appropriate jobs for the detective.

"Don, I know it's hard, but Lindsay's back at the lab facing them on her own, Danny's at home, but he'll know very soon what's happening, so they could both use a friendly ear. As much as I hate to say it, with all this rain, this place isn't going to have a lot to tell us. Adam's on his way to help, so maybe you should get your head wrapped around it and follow up on the DB from this morning, and if we get anything, you're the first call. We go anywhere, we'll need you then."

"I'm sorry Doc, I just..." Flack gave him a helpless look.

Hawkes squeezed his shoulder. "We've all got a role to play, it's just not your turn yet. I got things here, go dry out. Go on."

"Thanks," Don mumbled before striding away, oblivious to the number of potholes he waded through on his way to his car. Hawkes watched him go, letting out a large sigh as he scanned the area looking for what could be the smallest thing which would lead to the answers they so desperately needed to find their missing colleagues.

He prowled along the edge of the river, scouring every inch of ground for anything. After a few minutes searching, he saw a tip of something black sticking up from a puddle, so he bent down, and with gloved hands took hold. A badge emerged out of the brown water. Mac's. Hawkes recognised the number straight away; he had the numbers of all the team's badges memorised, which Danny had teased him about it on a number of occasions. Here though, it had proved its use.

Feeling his hand shake ever so slightly, Hawkes dropped it into an evidence bag, and swished through the puddle carefully, until his fingers bumped into something smooth. Another badge. Stella's this time. Another evidence bag came out of his pocket, and he dropped it in mechanically. Not daring to let any emotions into his mind now. As he straightened up, he looked out at the river and saw a disturbance on the surface of the water. He held his breath as a diver surfaced, and pulled the mask off her face. The woman spotted him, waved a frantic hand and yelled out.

"I found something!"

* * *

_Lily has absolutely no clue at all how this cliff-hanger happened... cough. She is also currently avoiding eye contact with afrozenheart412. _

_Please review and tell us what you think! As ever, it helps the writing process. Thanks, Forest and Lily x  
_  
_Also remember we've posted under our own names: Beacons of Home (Forest Angel) and Once upon a time in the Old West (Lily Moonlight)_


	11. Prisoners and Plots

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! Lots more action and drama coming up, as well as time with our favourite pairings. _

_Thank you to _holly _and_ rebeck_ for your reviews, we really enjoyed reading them, sorry we couldn't send a proper reply to you._

**Chapter 11 - ****Prisoners and Plots**

Day: 12

Opening Scene: Disused Rail Yard by the Hudson

Time of Day: Mid Morning

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate (opens in 3 days)

* * *

Hawkes ran to the edge of the river, almost toppling over into the dark depths as the diver swam over to greet him. Sick and cold with fear, he felt his blood singing in his ears and his vision starting to swim. His knees were starting to buckle and disregarding the waterlogged ground, he sank down, putting one hand out to stop him falling.

"What... what have you found?" His lungs felt too tight, and he made a mighty effort to control his breathing; trying to stop the light-headedness that was threatening to overwhelm him.

"Found this caught in a clump of weeds against the pier," the diver answered, as she held a small item up. "Can you reach?"

The relief almost collapsed him all over again. They had _not_ found a body. Dragging in a few breaths, Hawkes managed to nod at her.

"Sure. Hang on..."

Leaning almost too far over, he stretched his arm as far as it could go and snagged the gun the diver was holding out to him.

"Got it."

"Okay, great," she said and donned her goggles. "We'll keep on searching." A few seconds later after fixing her breathing apparatus back in place, she had sunk back under the water.  
Staggering to his feet, Hawkes held up a glock between two fingers. It could belong to either of the missing Detectives. A little more examination at the Lab would be able to tell them more, and, if they were lucky, provide some fingerprints from whoever was responsible for their disappearance. If they were lucky.

He bagged the item quickly, feeling his heart rate decrease gradually, but still not able to get rid of the dread that was churning through his insides; just because they hadn't found their bodies, didn't mean they weren't there to find. That nasty little refrain would not stop playing in his mind, and when Adam pulled up, he could barely greet him civilly. Adam looked oppressed, and even the nervous chatter that burbled out of him at times was lacking.

Together they combed the morass of mud and rainwater, any conversation reduced to the bare minimum of questions and terse answers. Both of them were well aware of the search going on in the river a few yards away from them. The search was hopeless though; the rain had washed anything away. Anything of use such as tire tracks were simply gone. It did not take long before Hawkes, weighed down with dejection and rain, called over to Adam.

"We're not going to find anything else now. I think it's time we went back to the lab, work on what we have got."

"Sounds a good plan," Adam sighed and shook water from his hair. "What about the, er, the..." he jerked his thumb towards the water. "You know... the, uh, the... We leave them to it?"

"We leave them to it," Hawkes answered miserably, daring to glance towards the choppy water. So far, nothing more had been found; but they had a wide and deep stretch of water to search in. Wide and deep enough to hide a multitude of sins and crimes.

Trudging back to their cars, they passed the tow truck loading Mac's SUV and the two men departed to their separate cars with few words to each other. It was with dark thoughts that Hawkes drove back to the lab with the evidence they had. So little evidence that the task of finding Mac and Stella seemed at that moment to be almost insurmountable.

-----

News of Mac and Stella's disappearance had already filtered through to the precinct when Flack arrived back. The sight of him still dripping wet, his normally smart suit crinkled and muddy and the look of utter dejection was enough to make everyone keep their distance. A couple of his own team dared to nod at him as he passed, acknowledging his presence, but the majority ensured that they gave him a wide berth as he trudged towards the locker room.

Pushing the door open he was thankful for the silence he found inside. He ambled slowly towards his locker, placed his palms against the door and leaned heavily against it as he stared down at the floor. He could feel his wet clothes against his skin, nowhere had evaded the rain which had drenched him at the scene, pounding into every fibre of his attire, and nowhere meant nowhere; even his underwear was soaked. His skin was sore from the chafing of the material against it, but at least that meant he was feeling something. He was back where he was after Jess died. Unfeeling, almost uncaring, except that he did care, two of his closest friends were missing, he couldn't give up on them yet. Hawkes sending him from the scene only served to highlight how useless he was, how once again just being a cop wasn't good enough anymore, that science was taking over. And there was one thing that Donald Flack junior hated and that was feeling helpless. As he stood there dripping on the floor he wondered what Jess would do, maybe now was the time to think about that and make some decisions.

Wearily he forced himself upright and eased his jacket from his shoulders then tugging on his shirt and pulling it from his pants before opening his locker and gradually stripping away the clingy sodden shirt and pants and dropping them inside. He debated just putting on dry clothes and silently praised whoever had suggested he kept a spare change, including a suit, at the station, but he realised as he stood there half naked that a dry set of clothes would do nothing to aid the cold leaden feeling gradually consuming him. He didn't want to feel that way, but nothing lately seemed to make anything better. Time would heal everyone kept telling him, but they sounded like empty words, it was over 4 months ago since his life had begun spiraling out of control, surely something should happen soon to make him feel even a little better. He could still feel the wet clingy form of his wifebeater as it stuck to him, making him shiver, maybe a hot shower would help.

He bent down to pick up his wallet that had fallen from his pocket, and gather up the items which had spilled from it. As he pushed some business cards back into it, one caught his attention, the coat of arms and plain script had him reading the details, he didn't know why; Natalia Hunt, British Delegation Liaison Officer and her phone number. He flipped the card over, not expecting to see anything on the reverse, but doing it anyway and found another number written neatly on the back. He thought back to the night in the bar, the night he had met her for the second time, the night he once again had blown off his friends in favour of a bottle of whiskey. He realised she was the complete opposite of what he expected the woman from the delegation to be. What was it she had said to him? Something about explaining her role; he recalled her taking the card back and writing on it.

_"If you don't want to make it official, I'm happy to meet somewhere outside the office, you've got my home number too." _

At the time he had been too angry and upset to realise she was holding out an olive branch, maybe that's what he needed to do, reach out and take it, what harm could it do? He needed to do something and maybe making new friends wouldn't be such a bad thing. He wasn't ready to date or any of that stuff yet, but having something new to think about might just be a start. He needed to separate a part of him from the job.

The door to the locker room opened noisily, dragging him from his self absorbed state and he glanced round. No one was visible, but voices echoed from the other side of the lockers. He recognised one of them as a rookie detective he had worked a couple of cases with, a brash young thing who thought he knew it all. It was the rookie's voice that drove the proverbial stake right through him.

"Search has been called off over on the West side, the divers couldn't find any bodies, think they may have been washed away with the tide."

Flack felt a sudden surge of anger and pain and snatched a towel and slammed his locker door before storming into the showers. How could he have been so thoughtless, thinking about changing his life, looking forward, when Mac and Stella were still out there somewhere? He refused to believe they were dead. They couldn't be; he would not believe it until he saw their bodies. They were out there somewhere. Somewhere where they needed help; and the worst thing was, at the moment, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

------

Lindsay hung up the phone from her latest conversation with the Chief of Detectives. He was not happy, but at least he had promised whatever resources they needed to help find Mac and Stella and support their investigation into the three murders they now had which were connected to the UN. She rubbed her temples as she stared into the hallway, seeing Hawkes and Adam return from the rail yard. They looked down and she wasn't sure what to do to cheer them up. She wasn't good at building team morale, they needed Stella and Mac for that. She sighed, and a terrifying thought sneaked into her mind; what if they didn't come back? What would that do to the already fragile states of mind of her friends? No, she couldn't think like that. She had to focus on keeping things moving. But how? ...

Maybe Hawkes and Adam could suggest something. It was the three of them left to find a solution. Sighing again she pushed herself out of her chair and wandered down the corridor to the trace lab where her co-workers were laying out the few evidence bags they had returned with.

"Hey Lindsay. Has there been any more news?" Hawkes asked wearily.

"Nothing. Sinclair has offered whatever we need to sort this out. All our normal cases are going to Jersey, we focus on Mac and Stella and the UN."

"You know, I didn't think about it before but Mac got a note this morning, some British woman brought it in," Adam offered a little hesitantly.

"A note? What did it say?" demanded Lindsay.

"It wasn't pleasant.... Hold on I'll get it," Adam answered nervously before he hurried from the room to retrieve the item.

A moment later they watched him return and warily hand over the note. Lindsay read it first; she quickly raised her hand to her mouth to stifle the scream she almost let out and she felt Hawkes slide the note from her hand, a moment later she felt his hand on her shoulder.

"Lindsay, it's okay Danny's safe at home now, he's doing fine. This is sent to scare us, don't let it. ... Adam does Flack know about this?" Hawkes waved the evidence bag as she took some deep breaths to control her nerves. She wished she could get a better handle on her emotions, her stomach was doing flip-flops again and she could feel herself shaking.

"Mac had me email a copy to him, but I don't think he's been in since."

"I'll call him. Lindsay, you okay to help Adam? I'll go and see Sid, he should be through with the autopsy by now. I'll call Flack on my way and fill him in." He asked squeezing her shoulder. She took a deep breath and nodded slowly.

"I just hope nothing else happens and we can find them soon..."

The sound of the door opening made all three of them turn around; and at the sight of the person standing in front of them, three jaws dropped simultaneously.

"What the...?"

"_Danny?_"

"Yeah it's me, yeah, I'm on a prescription for strong painkillers, no, I don't give a damn if anyone thinks I shouldn't be here. The Boss and Stella are missing... you think I'm going to be sitting on my ass when I could be helping find 'em?"

He folded his arms, wincing slightly Lindsay noticed, but stood his ground.  
Lindsay felt a tide of emotions sweeping through her, but exasperation mingled with fury won out.

"Danny Messer, you should _not_ be here! I told you not to come in! I _told_ you..."

I know what you told me, Linds, and I told _you_ I was coming in anyway... "

"Danny, man, you got told to take a few days for a damn good reason! Broken ribs are not something to mess around with... You want to end up with an internal haemorrhage?"

Lindsay threw Hawkes a grateful glance, and then turned a glower full force on her husband. "Danny, please! I know you want to help and I know how frustrated you must feel, but... but if you're back at work and anything else happens to you, it's just going to make things worse! What... what would happen to me and Lucy if anything... anything really bad happened? Did you even _think_ about that?" Her voice became high and trembling as she finished speaking, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Hawkes and Adam exchange a glance and step back a little way.

She drew a shaky hand across her forehead, and then looked at Danny. His head was hanging down, but he looked up to meet her eyes; sorrow and a trace of guilt in them. His hands pushed their way into his pockets, and then his gaze moved towards the wall as he cleared his throat.

"Nothing bad is going to happen to me, promise." His voice was gruff, but after clearing his throat, he continued. "Besides, if I stay here in the lab, then that's got to be the safest place for me, right? I'm sorry, but..."

"You're staying," Lindsay nodded, and then bit back a humourless laugh. "Right, yeah. Of course you are. You weren't going to listen to a word I said, were you?"

Danny shifted, looking uncomfortable, and Hawkes and Adam were looking anywhere but at the husband and wife.

"Linds, honestly, I'm sorry. But hear me out, please. I promise I'll stay in the lab. Give me whatever, anything, whatever evidence you've got and I'll run it for prints, trace, everything. Please. I got to do this. If one of us were missing, you think Mac or Stella would let a few broken ribs stop them? Come on. They'd drag themselves here from a hospital bed if they had to. You know it."

Lindsay stayed silent, refusing to look at her husband.

"Come on," Danny wheedled. "All I'm asking is to be allowed to do my job, in the lab. I'm not asking to be out in the field right away, just here. You need me here, you're short of people as it is."

Much as she hated to admit it, he was right. And much as she wanted him home, safe, she also realised that with him at the lab, he was right in front of her, and therefore much easier to keep a close eye on.

Raising her eyes slowly, Lindsay sighed. "Okay fine. You stay..." Danny grinned and opened his mouth, and she continued fast before he could speak. "And no, you are not allowed to gloat on this. You're staying because I'm not risking you making the journey back home by yourself, and you're staying so I can keep watch on you. But one foot out of line, mister, and you'll be escorted out of here, regardless of how short-staffed we are. You got that?"

Danny scrunched his face up. "I got it, I got it! You made your point...." He rubbed his hands together. "All right, so what've we got?"

Lindsay heaved another sigh, hoping she was not going to regret the decision. If she had indeed had any choice to start with. "You and Adam can run their badges and phones... Quick, before I change my mind!"

As she folded her arms across her chest, mirroring Danny's position of earlier, and glared, she almost let a laugh escape her at the looks cast in her direction by the two men as they busied themselves with the task at hand.

Holding her head high, Lindsay departed with Hawkes close behind her. She found herself wandering along to Mac's office. As soon as she pushed the doors open, she sank down onto the nearest seat and her head dropped into her hands.

"You okay?" Hawkes's gentle voice asked and she jumped, having almost forgotten his presence; but it was a welcoming presence indeed. "You did well there, that wasn't an easy situation. You know... " he paused and Lindsay looked up to meet warm brown eyes. "You should be proud of yourself, Lindsay, for coping with all this. Taking the lead and keeping everyone going. Not everyone would have been able to do that. I know for a fact that when this is all over and Mac's back where he should be, Stella alongside him, then both of them are going to be proud of what you did."

Her eyes were blurring with tears, but Lindsay managed to fumble a tissue out of her pocket and answer Hawkes in a voice that was only a little wobbly. "Thanks, Sheldon... that's... that's... I appreciate that, thank you."

He patted her on the shoulder. "Any time. That's what friends are for, right?"

-----

Deena, regretting wearing a pair of heels, trod carefully around the spreading puddles that blotched the wasteground. The weather had turned suddenly an hour ago and the torrential rain had caught her out. Already, milky rivers of rain and dust were running across the ground, and she cursed to herself as the water seeped into her shoes.

She had made sure to park as close as possible to the warehouse, however, and it did not take her long to reach the shelter of the overhanging piers. Rusty water dripped down off the old girders, and she stepped out of the way hastily, tucking herself into a dry space. There she huddled closer into her jacket to wait for her companions, and the people they were bringing with them.

Squinting to see through the sheets of rain, she soon spied an inconspicuous black van coasting over the ground, water arcing above its wheels. It pulled up a few feet from her, the driver obviously aware of the benefits of not soaking her further, and Carson jumped out of the passenger side door. He was followed a few seconds later by Ali and Dirk. Carson moved to her swiftly, took her hand and kissed the back of it. It was an indulgence she allowed only him, and only in token of the years they had known each other. But she never objected to his touch.

There was a spark in his eyes, and she grinned at it.

"You get them? Everything went to plan?"

"Deena, my dear, it went _exactly_ to plan. All thanks to your careful planning..."

"Flatterer," she chided, knowing it was the truth, but letting him get away with it. Just this once. She felt in a good mood, knowing that things were starting to work for them.

"Better than we could have hoped, in fact," he continued, "Taylor's an arrogant bastard, fortunately for us. Drove straight to the scene and didn't wait for any backup. He and his partner pretty much walked straight into our arms."

"They put up a fight?" Deena asked as Ali and Dirk stood waiting by the truck, watching the exchange. Ali, she noticed, seemed to be favouring his right leg, and Dirk appeared to have a red mark above his eye.

"Not for long," Carson answered hastily. "Taylor's partner gave Ali a few kicks in the shin before we subdued her. The woman wears some killer heels... Taylor himself tried to play the gallant hero when he saw what was happening and managed to land a few punches on Dirk... So we maybe used a little more force than we might have done..."

"You didn't...?" Deena felt her hand clench to a fist, but Carson closed his fingers round it and raised it to his lips again, before he answered her.

"No, we didn't, as per your instructions. But they're probably not going to be moving for a while yet. Had to give them both a couple blows to the head as well as the drugs."

Her anger subsided, and her fist relaxed once more as she nodded, and then a smile crept over her face.

"Makes things a little easier I guess..." she turned to the other two men, her voice crisp and business-like once more. "Okay guys, don't want to be wasting any more time than necessary. Let's get them inside and out of the way."

She stood back and watched as the doors were opened to the van and the two apparently lifeless bodies were revealed. Carson hoisted the woman over his shoulder eliciting a small moan as she was moved. Between them Dirk and Ali heaved the man out, and, probably not for the first time Deena guessed, nearly dropped him.

"Come on boys," she taunted as they grunted under the weight of their burden. "Muscles not strong enough? Maybe you should work out more. Build yourselves up a bit..."

Red in the face, from both exertion and embarrassment, they glared at her but made no comment. Neither would dare to, she was well aware.

She continued to watch as they carried their unconscious prey towards the rusty stairs leading to the overhead service walkway. The building was perfect for their needs: abandoned for long enough that casual trespassers had long since given up on the place, and scheduled for decommission and destruction in the near future so there were no longer any security patrols. It fitted their plan perfectly. She could hear the thump and clang of heavy boots on the metal walkway overhead; when they paused, she looked up to see Carson making short work of making their guests uncomfortable. She caught the glint of metal as he used their own cuffs to secure their hands behind their backs around a sturdy looking part of the structure. Placed several feet apart and with their backs to each other, it ensured that for now they were immobilised, alone and helpless. They had struck quite a blow to the Taylor Team and it would serve their purpose well for the next few hours. That thought gave her no small amount of satisfaction.

A few moments later, Deena looked around at the heavy footfalls approaching her. Carson gave her a reassuring smile. "It couldn't have gone better," he mused.

"Speak for yourself," muttered Ali, rubbing his leg.

"They're cops gentlemen, they wouldn't go down without a fight. We knew that," Deena chastised Dirk and Ali who were looking less than enthusiastic at that point, then she turned to Carson. "How long will the drugs last?"

"Few hours, worked just as our drugged up friend said it would. Took a couple of minutes for them to go under, hence the bruised egos."

"Perfect, this will keep the cops off our backs for a while while they search for their friends," she sneered. "Now I'm getting out of here. Gentlemen this is it, what we have worked so hard for, don't screw it up. Dirk, Ali..." she glared at them aggressively. "You have your teams in place?"

"Moving in now. Everything is all set for 2.30 as planned," Dirk answered with the most confident voice he could muster.

"Excellent. Just make sure you keep everyone occupied until tomorrow morning."

"I think we can do that," he grinned.

"Don't think!" Deena snapped, glaring at him. "I don't pay you to _think!_ I pay you for action and this is the most critical part of the plan. Don't fail me or the consequences will be far reaching."

Dirk and Ali eyed each other nervously. "Of course Deena, you can count on us."

"Words are cheap Gentlemen, just make sure your actions count."

"They will," affirmed Carson.

"They'd better," Deena scoffed and with one last look at their two cohorts, she turned to Carson. "I'm going to retrieve the package, I'll meet you at the designated spot."

Without waiting for another word she quickly picked her way across the rubble strewn floor and disappeared.

The men watched her leave, and Ali noted the small smile on Carson's face as his eyes lingered on her.

"What are we going to do with Taylor and Co?" he asked pointing to the rafters.

"You two sit tight here, at 12.30 you bring them to the other place and make sure this time they don't inflict any injuries, we don't need you two goons with bandaids this afternoon. Give them some more stuff if you have to," Carson instructed then he too picked his way through the rubble and followed Deena.

Ali glanced at Dirk, before they both trudged out of the warehouse and climbed back into the van to wait. Leaving the unconscious bodies of Stella Bonasera and Mac Taylor lying up on the walkway.

* * *

_Forest Angel's turn to own up to the ending, Lily is innocent! :D Please review and let us know what you think. Our individual stories have also been updated recently. Thanks, Forest and Lily x_


	12. Death and Despair

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_  
_**Chapter 12 -**** Death and Despair  
**

Day: 12

Opening Scene: Crime Lab Conference Room

Time of Day: Mid-day

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate (3 days)

* * *

With Danny and Adam working on processing the evidence from Mac and Stella's abduction location, Lindsay and Hawkes had moved to the lab conference room to review their case notes for the murder victims. Their discussion had only just begun when Flack walked in.

"We got anything useful yet on our latest vic?" he asked abruptly without even a hello. His hair, it was clear to see, was still damp from a shower. But Hawkes was thankful that at least that meant he had followed advice and gone back to the precinct to dry off and change out of his wet clothes.

What displeased him though was Flack's obvious bad mood, and Hawkes glared at him, feeling his temper beginning to rise, before flashing a sympathetic look at Lindsay. "Nothing _yet_," he answered. "Her ID is confirmed as Zafirah Malak, an Arabic Translator at the UN. That's three victims all with UN connections and one thing all of them have been missing, which worries me-"

"Just get to the point, we're wasting time," snapped Flack as he rested his hands on his hips and glared back at both Hawkes and Lindsay.

"Flack, we're all worried about Mac and Stella, but this is relevant to the case," counselled Lindsay. Her voice was calm, but her hands were clutching the edge of the table.

"As I was about to say, they're all missing their UN ID cards among other things, which makes me think that whoever did this is building up to something at the UN." Hawkes continued as patiently as he could manage. The tension in the room was thickening fast.

"Are you kidding me? That place is locked down so tight a cockroach would be lucky to get in!" Flack replied, his disbelief showing clearly.

"Exactly, that's why I think whoever did this needs the IDs, it's the only way for anyone to get through security right now."

Hawkes tapped some keys on the computer in front of him and three photos of their victims appeared side by side on the screen at the end of the room. "A foreign diplomat, a security guard and a translator, all with different areas of access, but when you combine them, it will give someone access to every part of the building."

"That's some leap," Flack scoffed.

"Maybe not," he stood his ground, refusing to be intimidated by Flack's challenging stance, knowing he had Lindsay to back him up as well. "Next week is the biggest event in the UN calendar; there are over a hundred foreign government representatives and almost as many heads of government. Think about it, it would be quite a coup to pull something off in the midst of all the security. The cordon goes down on the building at 0800 tomorrow, so my guess is that whatever is being planned is set for the opening debate on Friday."

"That only gives us 48 hours to figure this out!" Lindsay said fearfully.

Hawkes gave her another look of sympathy, guessing she was thinking the same as he was and dreading the thought that they only had three of them working properly - two were missing and Danny, well he was being Danny and just as bad as a stubborn child, while he tried to do his bit through the pain of cracked ribs and impaired mobility. It was going to be tough.

Flack looked disgusted. "And have you forgotten that Mac and Stella are still out there someplace needing our help? 'Cause so far I've seen little action to find them!"

It was clear to Hawkes that Flack was far from focused and the cracks in his emotions since Jess' death were even more likely to break open and send them all reeling and what was worse was that at that moment there was no way of stopping it, the only thing that could do that was to resolve the case and find Mac and Stella safe.

So he gritted his teeth, knowing he had to maintain his patience, even though all he wanted to do was yell some home truths at Flack. "No Don, we haven't forgotten, but right now we have to follow what evidence we have and that is ...."

"Evidence? What evidence? We haven't got any! Nothing useful anyhow. Far as I can tell, they've vanished without trace!"

Flack stood in front of them, breathing heavily; his nostrils were flared and his fists were clenched, and Hawkes let a moment of silence pass before he spoke in as calm and as measured a tone as he could.

"Don, we've got evidence... granted, it's not a lot, but we're doing what we can, Danny and Adam..."

"Danny? What the hell? Things are so bad you've dragged an injured man into work?" Eyes wide, Flack stared between Hawkes and Lindsay. It was then that Lindsay snapped. The papers in her hand sprayed across the table and before Hawkes was even aware she had moved, she was confronting Flack.

"That's it! You are way out of line with that, _way_ out of line! I've had enough of this; we've put up your rudeness and your bad temper long enough, either you cut the crap and do something to help us or get out of our way!" Lindsay's eyes glared at Flack with a ferocity Hawkes never noticed in her before. "If Angell were here now she'd be telling you the same thing, she wouldn't stand for the stuff you're spewing out at us, so get this, neither will I!"

"Don't bring Jess into this, this has _nothing_ to do with her!" Flack spat, anger seeming to emanate from every pore.

"This has everything to do with her and how you're dealing with what happened to her." Lindsay responded tersely, desperately trying to keep her temper in check.

"I'm dealing just fine," Flack stared around him and his eyes settled on Hawkes. "I suppose you're going to back her up, right?"

"She does have a point Don, no one is saying you shouldn't grieve, or that you should be over it, Jess was important to you, we understand that-"

"Stop! Just stop right there!" Flack held his hands up. "I said Jess has nothing to do with this. Mac and Stella, are out there some place in trouble and as far as I can see you two are doing nothing to find them and then you drag Danny in here when he should be at home resting, what the hell are you thinking?!"

"Maybe that's the problem right there," responded Hawkes quietly but firmly. "We _are_ thinking, we _are_ doing our jobs, we didn't ask Danny to come in, he decided that all on his own, and the truth is we need the help, there's only so much everyone else can do."

"That a dig that you're saying I ain't helping? Hell I was the one who found the car, I found their phones, I was the first one to suspect something was wrong!"

"Hawkes isn't saying that Don, you _are_ helping, but right now you're a loose canon, you aren't thinking straght, maybe you should take some time off..."

"Great idea Monroe, I'll just take off and find a beach someplace and sun myself while Mac and Stella are in trouble. Great friend I'd be then-" As Flack paused for a second to take a breath the door behind him clicked open.

"That's enough, Don, we're gonna take a ride. I won't have you talk to Lindsay that way, it's not her fault what's going on. We're all struggling man, none of us want anything bad to happen to them, but right now you need to take a step back and cool off." Danny's voice was a study in barely controlled anger, and Hawkes held his breath.

"So I'm the one with the problem now, that what you're saying?" Flack was rigid, anger resonating from him.

Danny stared cooly at him. "No, not at all, just that everyone's on edge, we all care, it's time you and I paid a visit to the UN, and guess what buddy, you're driving, 'cause if I get behind the wheel the Doc here will kill me."

"I don't need to-"

"Flack man, I'm warning you, we need to talk, now!"

Flack glowered at Danny a final hint of defiance sparking in his face and then it disappeared to be replaced by complete and sudden despair. His shoulders slumped and he nodded and walked from the room without another look or word to Hawkes or Lindsay. They both mouthed silent words of thanks and offered sympathetic looks to Danny, who turned on his heels and followed his friend, his face closed off, anger still seething underneath.

"Wow, I don't ever think we've spoken like that before," Lindsay said, a tremor in her voice as she turned to Hawkes.

He could feel his heart hammering; conflict at that level was something he tried to avoid at all costs. What had just transpired had shaken him badly. his breath whooshed out of him as he shook his head. "Spoken is a pretty big understatement... Hopefully Danny can calm him down, get him to talk a little."

"So do I, but I know that they've got in each other's faces before now and usually there's a black eye or two, although they haven't done it in years apparently, or so Danny told me once."

Hawkes gave her a weak smile. "I'm sure they'll be fine, Danny's matured a lot, besides he knows the crap I'm going to pour over him if he does anything stupid with cracked ribs."

"Then I think you need to get in line Doc, because I'll be the first."

A hint of a grin appeared on Lindsays lips as she turned and began gathering the papers she had scattered a short while before.

Even though he felt unfair to think it, it was undeniable that with Flack gone, the tension in the room had lifted a few notches allowing the duo to continue their task in peace.

* * *

The conflict with Flack had exhausted him, Sheldon realised as half an hour later he trudged down to the morgue feeling drained. He was suddenly very much aware of how much punishment his body had taken with the shooting and how recently he was back to his usual level of work. The stress of the last few days was taking its toll, physically and mentally. As he made his way to see Sid, he felt bleakness drape round his shoulders, and by the time be entered the morgue, finding the ME frowning over their latest victim, he could barely lift his head to acknowledge his greeting.

"Sheldon?" Sid hurried over to him. "Is everything all right?"

"No, Sid. No it's not," he shook his head and sighed so heavily it took almost all his breath, and he had to gulp air back into his lungs before swallowing hard. The lump in his throat refused to disappear though.

"We're finding it hard to cope," Sid said quietly. "All of us... But that's not surprising, or anything to be ashamed of."

"We're supposed to be able to cope with something like this though!" Hawkes hit back. "Not start yelling at each other in the middle of the lab. Man. We let ourselves down... I let _myself_ down."

"Sometimes you need a good yell, breaks the tension, lets out some of the anger and resentment that's been building up inside people. Is that the case?" Sid was looking at him keenly, and Hawkes shoved his hands in his pockets, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

"There's been a little tension between certain people..."

"Entirely understandable after what we've all been through, you especially, Sheldon. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"I hear what you're saying, Sid, but honestly, yelling personal insults at people is not the way to find your missing colleagues," he said ruefully.

"Maybe not, but I'm guessing it cleared a few things up between some of you?" Raising his eyebrows, Sid gave him a challenging look.

"It meant a few truths hit home, for some of us in particular."

"Don's not finding it easy," Sid peered over the top of his glasses at him. "And he's taking it out on the people he loves, and when two of those people disappear, then he takes it out even harder on the ones left."

A brief silence fell as Hawkes mulled over everything. Finally, rubbing his hand over his face, he sighed. "I just don't know how much more we can take, Sid. Flack's falling apart in front of our eyes; Danny's going to do the same if and when that happens, and Lindsay's having a quiet breakdown all of her own because of that. And that's just three of us. I haven't even mentioned the atmosphere up in the lab. No one knows who to turn to with Mac and Stella missing..."

"We turn to each other, which is what you're doing," Sid told him. "Times like these, we need each other the most. We're all worried, scared even about what's happened to them."

He stopped and Hawkes looked at him properly for the first time since he had arrived; it did not take much to notice the stress lining his face and the way his features had drawn close together. Worry clouded Sid's eyes behind his glasses, and he felt a rush of sympathy and guilt. The friendship the ME had with both the head of the lab and Stella was an obvious one; Hawkes had witnessed several exchanges of wit with Mac, and the avuncular affection he had for Stella was apparent in all their encounters.

"I'm sorry, Sid," he started. "You're under as much pressure as we are..."

"You've no need to apologise. I'm older than all of you - older _and_ wiser I might add." his eyes twinkled slightly and Hawkes managed a faint grin. It was quick to fade though.

"There's only so much we can take though, only so much death and despair. Any more deaths..."

He had to leave the sentence hanging; the same sickness he had felt when the diver surfaced from the river and he thought for those terrible moments that the bodies of his friends had been found came swirling in his stomach again.

Sid's hand was on his arm. "I have faith in both of them being out there somewhere still alive."

"I can't begin to think about... about..." Hawkes stopped and shook his head, angry at himself. "Damn, Sid! I'm supposed to be able to handle this! This is what I'm supposed to do every working day; cope with death in a detached and professional way. And right now, that's not happening!"

Sid surveyed him carefully. "You're right, it's what we do, dealing in death and despair on a daily basis, but this is not your normal everyday occurrence, having two of your colleagues disappear. Normally, we're on the outside. When it hits us on a personal level we all go off the rails a bit until we learn how to deal with it. We're human, with human frailties. We're coping as best we can."

"But the hits just keep coming Sid! I just wonder how much longer before something destroys us. Anything else happens, and I don't know if we'll survive it."

"We'll find a way to survive. _All_ of us will," Sid said emphatically. But Hawkes could find nothing more than three words to say.

"I hope so."

* * *

She heard the wind howling and shivered with the chill in the air. Awareness crept back and she felt strange, almost as if her mind and body were disconnected and she had just experienced one of her weirdest dreams. Rolling her head, she expected to feel a soft warm pillow, but instead she was surprised when her cheek met cold steel. _That_ wasn't right...

As she took a deep breath to help invigorate her and clear her dream fuzzled brain, a musty dank smell invaded her nostrils. The fog, however, began to clear from her brain, leaving her with a sense of a hangover. She felt sluggish, almost unable to move; her limbs were dead weights. Deciding her priority was to get her eyes open, she realised she could then assess her surroundings and then deal with why she felt so ... crap was probably the best word to describe it...

Trying to focus on that decision, Stella gradually began to think about lifting her eyelids, but her thoughts seemed to ramble, unable to focus on any one thing. It took a few moments of struggling concentration, and then even though it was pounding, she managed to lift her head slowly and open her eyes, and for a moment the world spun. It was easier to let her head drop back to whatever she was lying on and close her eyes again, scrunching them up as she tried to suppress the feeling of nausea that seemed to be invading her.

She hadn't been drinking, as far as she remembered, and she certainly never remembered having a hangover like this one; the only time she had felt this bad was after Frankie. For a terrifying instant she was back on the floor of her apartment and Mac was leaning over her telling her she was safe, but slowly reality forced its way through again and she realised Frankie was never going to bother her again. That left her current situation to deal with. Clearly something had happened to leave her spaced out, cold and nauseous lying on some metal ... _thing_. She needed to focus.

With a groan, she drew her arm up to wipe her face and help orient herself, or at least she would have done if her arm actually moved more than an inch or two behind her. This time she jerked her arm harder, but stopped when she felt the cuffs bite into her wrists. Stella fought back a scream of panic, shaking her head desperate to clear the fog and get herself oriented so she could take stock and act. Again, tormenting her, the memory of Frankie slithered back into her mind; the memory of being trapped and hurt by him.

But she would not let him do that to her. Not now, never again. He was _gone_.

Even though the world behind her eyes whirled as she shook her head, she fought the nausea that threatened again. She took a deep breath through her nose, clenching her teeth as she tried to stay as still as possible. Okay, so shaking her head had not been a good move. Keep still, yes that was a good idea, keep still and open her eyes... Find out where she was and who else was there.

Stella slowly allowed her eyes to open and adjust to the light. There was nothing and no one obvious in sight, and all she could hear was the wind and the creaking of the structure around her. As her eyes accustomed themselves to the environment she could see she was in a rundown warehouse of some kind. Panels in the ceiling were missing, allowing the rain to seep in; in places, the sky was pretty grey, but she couldn't be sure if it was because it was getting dark or if there had been the storm the weathermen had predicted. She wondered which was true; if she knew then it would give her some idea of how long she had been there.

Not only was she in a seeming wreck of a building, but she seemed to be secured on some sort of metal walk way. Things were not looking their best... Slowly, Stella tried to sit up, but her hands were pretty useless in helping her, and a sudden feeling of bile rising in her throat stopped her for a moment. She tried to pull her knees up to assist her, but whatever was coursing through her system didn't help, and she didn't seem to have full movement of her legs... Biting back the nausea she tensed her muscles, gritted her teeth and forced herself upright in a slow agonizing move; slow because she had to do it without being able to use her hands for the most part.

Sitting up, however, she realised she still couldn't see very much and turning around fully had been made impossible by the chain she now saw binding her ankles to a metal side rail on the gantry about two feet from her. Taking stock of herself, Stella realised that she seemed to be unhurt, unless you counted the tin band playing in her head. But she knew that she was in trouble, and as far as she could tell, she was alone. A groan forced its way out of her lips, and her head dropped forward... As much as it hurt her pride to admit it, until she could figure out a way to free herself, she was almost helpless. She intended to do everything she could to change that, however, for now, she would have to wait for someone to find her... For _Mac_ to find her - she knew she could rely on him...

Mac.

An icy jolt invaded her body.

_Mac._

Where was he? Was he alright?

He had been with her when she was taken, she remembered that now. They had just pulled up at the address given for their latest call. Wasteground on the West Side, the rail yard... she had been suspicious, but Mac had persuaded her they needed to get the evidence before the storm hit. She remembered getting out of the SUV, but then everything had happened so fast that only brief images ran fleetingly through her still fuzzy brain. Someone had grabbed her from behind... she had kicked out, hard... then something hit the back of her head... a sharp pain in her neck... The last thing she remembered before blacking out was seeing Mac struck on the back of his neck and crumbling to the floor.

Pulling desperately against her restraints, Stella tried to look around her again, hoping to catch some glimpse of him, to hear some sound to tell her he was nearby and all right. She was out of luck though, the place remained strangely silent, except for the ... wait .... did she hear footsteps? Her muscles tensed to stillness. Somewhere down below her, there was someone down there... She felt certain but she couldn't quite make out anything really distinctive and she sighed. There it was again ... footsteps, she strained to hear them again, slow heavy steps, she couldn't be sure... So she did the only thing she could under the circumstances.

"_Mac!_ .... _MAC! _Can you hear me?" Her hoarse cries echoed eerily around her.

No answer came back.

She felt her breathing quicken in panic.

Now they were in trouble.

_

* * *

_

Please review and tell us what you think! As ever, it helps the writing process. Thanks, Forest and Lily x

_Also remember we've posted under our own names: Beacons of Home (Forest Angel) and Once upon a time in the Old West (Lily Moonlight)_


	13. Dealing With Captives

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! _

_NB A few instances of swearing in this one  
_

Story Title: **Hidden Agenda**

Chapter 13 - Dealing with Captives

Day: 12

Opening Scene: Unknown location

Time of Day: Early Afternoon

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate (3 days)

* * *

Silence had settled between them for several minutes. Deena, gazing dreamily out of the window with her chin propped on her hand, sat in the passenger seat. The look of peace on her face made Carson smile; it was rare to see her like this. Angry, frustrated, impatient - those were the emotions he had seen most of in recent weeks, as their carefully-laid plans came slowly, often too slowly for her liking, to fruition. And he had been the one closest to her; the one who had to defuse the anger, soothe the frustration, calm the impatience. She relied on him for that, and he was happy to be the one she relied upon. Now, however, they were almost on the home straight, and he could afford a little relaxing of his own emotions.

Deena turned and smiled at him, the corners of her mouth turning up and her eyes glinting. Feeling himself drawn into the deep blue of her gaze, aware of stirrings inside him, he let his hand travel to her knee.

"What are you thinking?" he breathed and his other hand lifted a strand of hair from her forehead and let it slide through his fingertips.

Her eyelids half-dropped as she put her hand over his and closed her fingers round it, encouraging his caress.

"Wouldn't you like to know," was her whispered reply.

Impatience froze his smile momentarily, but the warmth of her skin melted him. "You know I would."

Her hand snaked around his neck, drawing him to her and with her breath tickling the hairs on his scalp, she murmured into his ear. "I'm thinking... when all this is over, you and me Carson, we should go someplace. Just the two of us, someplace far away from all this." She drew back and tilted her head slightly, and Carson felt his breath fluttering in his chest.

"Sounds good to me..."

A smile flirted across her lips as she pushed closer to him and his hand crept further up her leg, beginning to slide the material of her skirt higher. His breathing deepened as her mouth met his.

And then she pulled back. Her hand abandoned his neck, leaving the skin cold, and she pushed his hand from her leg, wriggling round in her seat, adjusting her skirt and sweeping the hair out of her eyes. Any hint of flirting had dissolved from her expression and her eyes had become hooded again. Carson stared at her, and felt anger creep into him as he shifted in his seat, trying to hide his discomfort.

"This isn't the time," Deena said abruptly, her gaze fixed through the windshield. "There's too much at stake to let our concentration lapse for a moment. Then she snapped her head round to face him and he attempted to swallow his annoyance.

"All right... fine," he released a tightly-held breath. "So what do you want me to do? Want me to check in on our two friends?"

Deena snorted. "Sometimes I regret ever bringing those two clowns in on this. Whose recommendation did I go by?" She shot him a sharp look and he bit back his response that they had actually employed Dirk and Ali because _she_ had wanted them in. Instead he soothed her ruffled feathers once more.

"Deena my dear, they're useful for our purposes, and as soon as it's all over, we cut them loose." A thought crossed his mind and he grinned suddenly. "And if there's any collateral damage, we'll probably be thankful for their presence then."

Her lips curved into a smile that was colder than the rain hissing against the car. "We've always thought alike, Carson." She ran a fingernail down his cheek and he shivered. "I like that..."

He shifted again and ran his finger round his collar. "So... do you want me to call them? Got any further instructions for them on dealing with our captives?" His trust in Ali and Dirk not to screw up was minimal. It was down to them that the capture of the two detectives had not gone as smoothly as he envisaged. Their blundering had wasted valuable minutes and allowed the two to struggle and cause a few injuries before being taken down. His only consolation was that the rain had been so heavy it had washed away any tracks they had left.

"No. If they don't know what they're supposed to be doing now, then they never will," Deena said scornfully as she turned away from him and drummed her fingers on the edge of the door.

Carson was silent for a moment, before deciding to blurt out a question that had been nagging at him. "Why didn't we kill Taylor and his partner? We had the chance to. Why keep them alive?"

Deena pursed her lips. "For the moment, they're more use to us alive than dead. Think about it, Carson; if you'd killed them, you would have had to dump the bodies somewhere, leaving evidence all over the place and they'd have been found too soon. Even in the river, they'd have washed up soon enough. Holding them captive, as we planned, diverts the cops' attention and manpower to looking for them. Plus, if necessary, they give us a little something to negotiate with." She fixed him with a cold stare, and Carson did not fail to notice the way she had assigned the deed to him. It was always the way.

"And are they going to be found?" he asked.

There was a silence. Deena looked thoughtful. "Probably. When I'm ready for them to be..." Her eyes narrowed and she gazed out of the window again as she spoke. "Too much killing and people get careless, when you leave it to amateurs of course. It gets messy, you know that, and you know I don't like mess." She turned to him again. "I believe in a clean job and only doing what's necessary. The three we had to kill, that was necessary - how else were going to get what we wanted from them?"

In the ensuing pause, Carson regarded her carefully. He knew, as the almost-drowned voice of conscience in the back of his mind told him, that they had not really needed to kill the three people connected to the UN, but equally he knew that if he even intimated that his thoughts were heading in that direction, there would be consequences. So he chose his words carefully.

"We didn't have a choice..."

She smiled and her eyes glinted, with not a trace of remorse for the three murders that had been committed. Not that he had expected to see any. "Exactly. I knew you'd see it that way." One hand now lay on his thigh whilst the other rested against his neck. "And of course sometimes deaths are unavoidable, in our line of work."

Carson coughed and felt his face burning. But he had one more question to ask of her, even though his throat felt like a constrictor had wrapped round it as her fingertips stroked the sensitive skin beneath his ear.

"When, uh, when and _if_ Taylor and his partner are found... are they going to be found alive?"

Deena blinked slowly, her eyes mesmerising him. "I haven't decided that yet," she murmured as she traced his jawline. "As I said, sometimes deaths are unavoidable."

* * *

"I still don't see that this is going to do a damned bit of good, we know what they're going to say before we get there. We can be more use looking for Mac and Stella," Flack practically whined as he moved through the city traffic.

"Yeah and you were being a whole lot of use yelling at Lindsay and Hawkes," Danny shot back.

"They weren't doing anything! You expect me to sit on the sidelines and take it that they're missing? That friends of ours are out there some place needing our help, and no one is doing a thing to find them?"

Danny could tell Flack's frustration and anger were barely contained, if it weren't for the fact he was driving he would probably have exploded. He knew he needed to tread carefully and choose his words more thoughtfully than he might usually have done.

"I'm not saying that, I'm just saying that there's a lot going on right now, we have to prioritise, that we need to work on the evidence we do have..."

"Humph!"

Danny's attempt at a rational explanation was dismissed with a disbelieving snort from Flack whose eyes were fixed on the road ahead as he maneuvered them through the mid-town traffic, a scowl over his features and his hands clenching the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white.

Danny felt his diplomacy fast sliding away from him. "You know what? I've just about had enough of you and the attitude, we've put up with it a long time, you need to think about what effect you're having on everyone else, maybe Lindsay was right, maybe you do need to take some time off, get your head straight."

"A lot of good that did me, a month at home after the shooting, I need to be on duty, I can't sit at home everyday thinking about Jess, thinking about the bar, I need to do something." Flack lost no time in shooting straight back with the line he had been feeding Mac since the night they got a tip off about the bar shooters. A line Danny had heard himself several times and was more than sceptical about.

"Yeah, well, when it involves yelling at people then that something ain't working!" he half snorted, and then he sighed. "You thought about taking off for a vacation? Someplace else, or just getting out of the city?" he asked in a more sympathetic voice.

"Like that's gonna work," scoffed Flack, watching the lights change on the intersection and shoving the car into drive.

"Look I'm just suggesting, what you got going on right now ain't working so you gotta come up with something better or Montana's gonna crush your balls. She don't take that sorta crap from me so there's no way she'll let you get away with it. Reason she put up with you this far is outta respect for Jess and giving you time to deal with all that, but now you gotta get your head outta your ass and see what your shit is doing to everyone else." Danny let the words roll off his tongue in a firm manner, well aware that he had Flack as a captive audience.

"What _I'm_ doing to everyone else? Come on Mess, everyone is just as fucked up as I am - you talked to Stell recently? You know what happened with her and Adam? That is one guy I never figured would get to first base with her." Flack exclaimed defensively. "How screwed up is that?"

Danny knew he was trying to change the subject, divert attention from himself, but he wasn't letting him off the hook that lightly. He knew everyone and anyone had been giving the detective advice since Jess died, well except maybe for Mac, the one person best placed to do it, but anyway Danny knew his friend was fed up with the sympathy vote. Well if that's what he wanted he was more than willing to oblige after the events in the Lab and he wasn't holding back anymore. He wanted normal, that's just what he was going to get; with both barrels.

However, for the moment, shock at what Flack had just suggested regarding Stella and the unassuming lab tech almost took his breath away, and he had to respond.

"Adam?" Danny wheezed, "Stella and _Adam?_ You really are certifiable. Geez, if you think she and Adam, _you're_ even more screwed up than I thought!"

"You mean you ain't heard talk?" Flack slid his gaze across to him and then back to the road.

"No way! I'll have to ask Lindsay about that, see if Stella said anything ..." He shook his head in disbelief. "What about the thing she and Mac got for each other?"

"They still got it, but you know him, all uptight and proper, seems like he isn't taking any notice sometimes, or doesn't know how to, and the woman's got needs."

"But Adam?" groaned Danny still not believing what his friend was saying. "Nah, I don't buy it... _If_ there was anything between them it was a one time thing... Besides, as we were only saying a couple weeks back - she and Mac've been even closer recently. Okay, so they had some bumps, but since he took off to Greece after her, they're different, and you can't say _that_ wasn't taking any notice." He huffed and then narrowed his eyes at Flack, realising that he had been trying to sway him from his purpose. "Anyhow, we're s'posed to be finding them, not gossiping about them, and you're changing the subject - we're talking 'bout _you_ here, what about your needs? You and Jess were getting pretty tight, how are you-"

"I'm fine." Flack answered quickly in a tight, clipped tone.

"Bull- The last two weeks, if you ain't out drinking half the night you're aggravating everyone you meet, you're being a bad ass cop even to the ones on our side."

"You going somewhere with this?" Narrowly missing a fire hydrant, Flack swerved the wheel as he glared at his friend.

With a grimace, Danny held onto his seat-belt and continued to push his point.

"Yeah, and trust me I wish I didn't have to, but you don't leave me a whole lot of options. You were rude and obnoxious to Lindsay and Hawkes back there, I heard it with my own ears, just like the rest of the lab, they didn't deserve that. My guess is you started on them this morning at the scene, maybe even had a run in with the Doc down by the Hudson."

"You finished yet?" snapped Flack, anger visible in his face as the car approached the UN gates, and Danny guessed his words had hit home. So he carried on.

"Nah, I'm just getting started. ... what's with you and that Embassy Liaison Officer? She's just trying to do her job, she knows the ropes, yet everytime you two are in the same place you're an asshole to her, I'm surprised she ain't reported you yet."

"Natalia Hunt?" Flack snorted. "I told her she ain't got the right to take over the investigation."

"Yeah, right, she knows her job Flack, she wants to help."

"Then how come she's always in the middle of everything?"

"Because she works at the UN. The whole case has links to the UN, maybe it's time you sucked it up and started apologising for your attitude, and you can start with her."

"Apologise? You think-" Flack spluttered as he stopped the car and waited for security to clear them to enter the UN parking lot.

Danny never let him finish. "Yeah, apologise: to Miss Hunt and most importantly, to Hawkes and Lindsay, they've all been trying to save your ass the last few weeks, maybe they should have just left you to rot on your own!"

"I never asked them to save me, I don't need saving, I'm fine."

They flashed their badges at the security guard and he let them through the gate. Flack revved the engine, rather more than necessary, as he moved the car forward.

"Not what I heard - you railed on Sam last year for nearly getting picked up on a drunk and disorderly, story I heard was Natalia Hunt did the same for you by calling Mac instead of letting the bartender call the cops."

"That was her?"

Danny noticed the look on his friend's face, and it was clear he didn't know. He decided to press his advantage.

"Yeah, how else did you think Mac and Stella knew where to find you? ... One way or another the last few months we've all saved your ass. You still ain't over Jess, we get that, and that's fair enough, but you're going about it all wrong. Don't ask me what the right way is because I can't tell you, but you just can't keep on doing what you're doing."

Flack pulled the car into a vacant slot and Danny got out carefully, feeling the discomfort from his ribs a little more than he would have liked. Flack leaned his arms on the steering wheel and sighed heavily. Watching him, Danny hoped all that he had said had got though to his friend; this case had got to everyone, now that Mac and Stella were missing, the others were right, they needed to work together, they shouldn't be fighting.

As Danny waited, trying to stand in a position that would at least stop his ribs feeling like a knife was being pushed into them, he watched Flack pull his wallet from his pocket, flip it open and take out a business card and stare at it. After a few moments he pulled out his phone and dialled a number that was obviously on the card. "Miss Hunt? ... Hey, This is Detective Flack, I'm kind of in the middle of something right now, but later, after, could we meet someplace? .... No, nothing yet. I'll call you when I'm done..."

Feeling a little like an intruder he left Flack to finish the call and moved over to talk to a couple of security guards before his friend finally emerged from the car a minute later.

"You OK?"

Don nodded curtly. "I'm fine, lets do this and get back to the lab."

* * *

As he walked across the disintegrating concrete floor, Dirk paused. Somewhere amidst the groaning and creaking of the building, he had heard something else. Another sound. His boots scrunched in the smashed cement underfoot as he turned slowly on his heel, listening, and his unlit cigarette hung off his lip. It had been faint, but there had been a sound that was not the ululations of the wind through the walls. He listened again, walking back a few steps and stopping again, casting his eyes round. Apart from their two unwitting guests, there was no one else present. Ali had opted to stay in the van, huddled into his jacket, whilst he had needed some air, and a smoke.

"Could've sworn I heard something," he muttered to himself, before shaking his head with a wry laugh at the absurdity of it and raising his lighter to the cigarette. Talking to himself in the middle of an old building, with no one but the pigeons to hear him...

Unless, of course, their captives were awake enough to listen, and awake enough to make a sound.

Flicking out the flame from his lighter with a practised hand, Dirk removed the cigarette from his lips and trod as quietly as he could across the floor to the foot of the walkway. Before he reached it, however, a vast gust of wind shook the structure and a large pane of glass tumbled from a window above, shattering a few feet away from him. Darting back with a foul mouthful of curses, Dirk felt his heart pounding inside his chest and clutched at his shirt for a moment. Trembling hands dropped the cigarette and he cursed again before fumbling for another one.

"Hey!"

The voice behind him made him jump at least a foot, and drop the second cigarette. He turned to face Ali with a snarl.

"What in heck are you doing creeping up on people? You darn fool!"

Ali grinned and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Who else were you expecting?" Then he shivered suddenly and glanced round him. "Getting cold isn't it?"

Dirk grunted and plucked his third cigarette from the pack.

"Wind's getting pretty strong too. Think we're in for a hurricane?" Ali continued as he circled round, craning his head to look up into the crumbling rafters. "You know what? I don't think this place is going to hold out much longer."

"Guess that's why Deena picked it. Be glad we don't have to stay here," Dirk blew a cloud of smoke in his companion's face, and took pleasure in seeing him step back and cough. He revelled in the pungent smoke and inhaled deeply.

"How much longer _do_ we have to stay?" Ali asked clearing his throat. Then he took a conspiratorial look over his shoulder and turned back to Dirk with a sly look in his face. "Listen, don't know about you, but I don't see the sense in us moving our guests out of here. Deena's going to be too involved in her showdown to be concerned about them. Why not save ourselves a little trouble and leave them here?" He bent down and rubbed his calf with a wince. "Save ourselves any more damage too. Anyhow, if this rain keeps up, this place is going to topple down all by itself, which means us not having to do any more dirty work; if they escape, they escape, if not, well, that's not our problem any more. What d'you say?"

Dirk arched his eyebrow whilst Ali regarded him expectantly. If he was honest, the same question had crossed his mind. Not least because he was pissed off at being left to babysit their two hostages, as he saw it. He knew it was Deena's method of ensuring he and Ali were out of the main action, and he did not like it one bit. It fanned the flames of rebellion that had been smouldering for some time inside him. As grudging as he was to admit it, Ali had made a tempting proposition. He was equally reluctant to go through the rigors of hefting Taylor and his partner around again; especially Taylor. His muscles still ached from heaving the man in and out of the van. It was not the kind of activity he was used to, or enjoyed. A walk around the block was all the exercise a man of his years and physique needed.

"You got a smooth-talking tongue in your head..." he drawled, flicking ash from his cigarette. "But maybe you got a point."

Ali grinned. "So we're agreed? We leave them here?"

"Maybe we do..." he smirked, and felt satisfaction tempered with a spark of apprehension at the thought of defying Deena. But as he checked his watch, he felt his heart rate quicken again. "Time's moving on, it's almost two o'clock we need to get moving or Deena will have our balls."

"Wonder what happened to push the plan back a couple of hours?" Ali frowned.

"We don't get to ask those questions, just accept that she knows the plan." Dirk took a couple of steps towards the rickety metal staircase, still mulling over what his companion had said, then he stopped and turned back to Ali, as he came to a decision. "You know what? I like your thinking about our guests, and just so we're not letting Taylor and partner off too lightly, I'm sure we can find a place that's rather more uncomfortable and dangerous than where they are now, then if this place does cave, well they'll just be buried with it. Deena's not going to meet us at the new place, she'll have no idea what happens to them. And I don't reckon she'll care too much either."

Ali returned a sly grin. "Lets do it... And hey, I saw a nice place over in the corner when I checked the place out earlier, must've been some kind of inspection pit. Should suit our purposes to a T."

Dirk looked in the direction he had indicated; several roof plates were missing, and the whole area looked very unstable, a water pipe nearby was trickling steadily overhead and he couldn't be sure but he thought that corner of the building looked like it was slipping towards the Hudson. It was ideal; not only because it was an unpleasant place to abandon the two detectives, but because it would easily conceal their bodies. If, purely due to the bad weather and the fragility of the building of course, any fatal misfortunes befell them.

A smile slipped over his face as he resumed his path to the metal walkway. "Perfect. Let's escort our guests over there, I'll need a hand with Taylor, but you can manage the woman on your own..." he paused and his smile became crooked. "And while you're doing that, maybe I can add a little assistance to the inevitable collapse."

The clank of their boots on the trembling stairs mingled with the echo of their laughter.

* * *

_*shifty eyes* That wasn't a cliffhanger, honest... We hope you enjoyed the chapter, please review and let us know what you thought! Thank you, Lily and Forest x_


	14. Condemned

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_Didi - Thanks for the comments, we hope you enjoy the latest offering. Flack definitely needed a talking too but we'll reserve judgement on the Gibbs smack on the head.  
_

**Chapter 14 - Condemned**

Day: 12

Opening Scene: Unknown location

Time of Day: Early Afternoon

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate (3 days)

* * *

Stella held her breath as she heard the wind howling through the crumbling walls, distorting the voices below her, making what they were saying unintelligible. She kept still, not wanting to alert anyone to her state of consciousness for fear it would encourage further torment. Even though she still needed to locate Mac and find out what had happened to him, she dared not call out again; doing so had been an instinctive reaction, and an unwise one she realised with a rapidly clearing mind.

The sound of heavy boots on the metal stairs made her bite her lip to hold in the scream she wanted to let rip. Forcing herself to take slow deep breaths she eased herself, as quietly as possible, back to the floor. It was no easy task and her stomach muscles would alert her to that fact for a few days no doubt, but it meant she could feign unconsciousness, and if her captors believed she was still out, it would make things a lot easier for her. It might be her only chance to escape if they were taken by surprise. After all she still didn't know where Mac was or even if he was still alive. She fought back a strangled cry at the thought as the heavy boots clanked against the metal, drawing ever nearer.

She strained her ears, holding her breath, as she thought she heard something behind her; something other than the heavy boots and it took all her will power not to try turning around to take a look. She wondered if it was Mac, or whether some other poor soul had been brought to this god-forsaken place too. Hoping it was the former, she made herself breathe evenly, despite the fear and adrenaline which coursed through her veins and prepared herself to make a break for freedom as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Footsteps passed alongside her, and then there was a grunting sound from behind and the sound of chains clinking against metal. More grunting followed, but she couldn't be sure whether it emanated from the owner of the boots or someone else. Then she felt fear settle an icy hand over her stomach as a second set of boots made their way up the stairs and past her. Whatever was happening though, she had to remain calm.

Her life and Mac's might depend on it.

More grunting followed as the owners of both pairs of boots worked behind her and eventually made their way slowly back along the walkway, from the sounds, they seemed to be carrying something, or someone, and their burden was obviously heavy as they offered frequent groans and complaints.

Stella risked cracking an eye open and the sight that met her a few moments later sent a surge of relief and dismay through her. Walking past her, just within her line of vision were two men and between them they were carrying Mac. His eyes were closed and his head was flopped backwards, and she almost choked in horror.

He had to be alive, he _had _to be!

"Think he works out?" the shorter and thinner of the two men panted as they struggled along the walkway. "There's no fat on him, got to be muscle that's weighing him down..."

"Wouldn't know. I don't do working out," the other man puffed as he staggered backwards, Mac's legs gripped in his meaty hands.

The casual way they were handling him made her burn with rage, and as they knocked him against the side of the walkway, it took almost all her self-control not to yell abuse at them. But she knew that would do more harm than good; she had to wait for her moment.

As they neared the stairs, the larger man continued speaking. "Just be thankful we don't got as far to carry him. We gotta hurry - don't want to miss the big bang..."

Seized with panic, Stella felt her heart thudding as all the possible places they could be carrying Mac, and possibly her shortly, flooded her mind. The river, another warehouse, somewhere worse... Another attack of nausea swept over her then and she closed her eyes, trying to gulp in air as quietly as she could.

The two men had reached the top of the stairs with their burden now and the unbearable, almost visceral possibility that they could be carrying Mac's lifeless body stabbed deep into her heart.

No! Not his body. He was alive, she knew it, she _knew_ it! With a mighty effort, she stifled the sob that was rising in her throat and blinked back furiously the tears that burned behind her eyelids.

They were going to get out of this, both of them were. They were going to get out of this _alive_.

The metal walkway, rigid and mangled beneath her, sticking into her in a dozen places, shook violently as the men descended the stairs. Stella swallowed hard and strained her eyes and ears, trying to gauge how far and in what direction they were taking him once they reached the bottom of the stairs. It was difficult to tell though; her range of sight was severely limited; all she could see was a patch of the floor she was lying on and a glimpse of the far wall, and all she could hear were the scuffing footsteps moving across the floor.

Then they stopped and there was a dull crash and thud that followed. Her eyes widened in dread, and then she gave a gasp and screwed them shut again at the sound of one set of footsteps returning across the floor in a hurry.

Even with her eyes closed, the vision behind her eyelids whirlpooled and sickness swirled in her stomach again. Swallowing a groan, she remembered again the sharp pain in her neck shortly before she had lost consciousness, and the significance of it struck her. Someone had to have drugged her. It was not simply a case of being hit over the head, though she suspected that had happened as well, no, something entirely more insidious had been used. What though, she had no idea. Chloroform possibly, the after-effects would fit the profile, however, she suspected that it might be something else that had left her still feeling so groggy and disorientated.

And she still had no idea who or why. Why would someone want to kidnap her and Mac? Why hold them captive in this place? As she tried to find a way through the thoughts that were fast knotting and tangling in her mind again, there came the vibration of feet ascending the stairs. It jerked her thinking straight again immediately.

They were coming back for her.

Relaxing her cold-stiffened muscles as much as she could, and making herself appear as limp and helpless as possible, Stella willed her body not to betray her. After counting eight thumping beats of her heart she became aware of someone standing over her, breathing heavily. It took all her fortitude not to shudder in disgust as a hand, warm and moist with perspiration, pushed her hair away from her face and neck and rested briefly on her pulse point. It withdrew leaving her even more nauseous and a moment later, she felt someone fumbling with the cuffs securing her wrists behind her back. But as her hands dropped to the ground, she felt a thrill of adrenaline; she was half-way to freedom and only a little further beyond that was Mac's freedom.

The man stepped over her and she felt a tug on her ankles as the chain binding them was undone slowly.

"Least you can't kick me now," a peevish voice muttered, and Stella felt a dark satisfaction as the memory of her heels connecting with a leg boosted her confidence. The chain clanked to the floor and she waited, controlling her breathing, waiting for the optimum moment to surprise her foe.

A foot nudged her none too gently in the side, and it was all she needed to spring back to life. Twisting onto her back and grabbing hold of the man's leg, she pushed forward and with a yell of shock, he crashed backwards to the ground. Pulling herself upright, catching hold of the walkway as she lurched sideways for a moment, her vision tilted and Stella heaved in a few breaths. It did not take long though for the man, winded as he appeared to be, to get back on his feet and lunge towards her. But she brought her knee up, catching him in the groin, and as he doubled over, clutching himself and cursing furiously, she shoved him hard before he could recover and sent him back to the ground. Not quick enough to break his fall, he collapsed and lay there groaning.

Breathing heavily, Stella clutched the rail as her balance momentarily threatened to desert her, but time was running out and she could not afford to lose a second either to exalt over her victory or give in to any weakness. Sucking in a final breath, she broke into a stumbling run, using the rail to pull herself along. One thought above all drove her on, Mac: finding him and freeing him, and then getting themselves the hell out of there.

The swaying walkway and the grinding, graunching noises it was making spurred her on even faster. She was only a few feet away from the top of the stairs and even though her legs felt as steady as half-cooked pasta, she grimly kept going.

It didn't take long for her to be pursued.

The thudding footsteps of the man fast coming up behind her made the walkway swing even more violently, and she felt herself wobbling. She grabbed hold of the rail again and used it to pivot herself round the corner of the stairs. Then almost throwing herself down them in her haste, she saw freedom just a few steps away. Freedom in the form of the expanse of warehouse spread out in front of her.

The empty expanse.

No sign of the other man, but no sign of Mac either. But she would find him. She _knew_ she would.

Only a few more steps to go...

"Where d'you think you're going, sugar?" An oily voice stopped her dead and a second man stepped into sight, one hand on the bottom of the stair rail, the bulk of his body blocking her path completely. It had not been empty after all, and she almost cried in frustration.

"Surely you aren't leaving us? Afraid that's not allowed." A smile oozed across his face and Stella shuddered at the sight, but anger and adrenaline won the upper hand. She was not going to let him take her chance of freedom and Mac's along with it.

So with a desperate cry, she launched herself at him, crashing into the solidity of his chest and using her arms to try and push him out of her path.

It was an uneven struggle though, and still dizzy and weakened from whatever she had been drugged with, she soon found herself trapped, her arms pinned at her sides as the man held her in a tight embrace, her back to his chest.

"Let go of me!" she spat.

"I can't let you go so easy as all that," he said and Stella growled at the amusement in his voice and writhed in his grasp. He held on tighter though and as he bent and pressed his cheek against hers, she gagged at the touch of his skin and the stale odour of tobacco as he breathed. "If you stop struggling, darling, it'll make things a whole lot easier on both of us..."

There was no way in _hell_ she was going to make this easy for him.

Slackening her body, she felt his arms loosen minutely. It was all she needed, and twisting round, she jabbed her elbow into his ribs, stamped down hard on his foot, and broke free.

She made it a few feet before her arms were seized again and she was swung round by the man who was now red-faced and panting.

"I _told_ you not to struggle," he hissed.

"Too bad I wasn't listening!" she shot back, trying to wrest herself free.

With a rush of joy, she realised his grip was weakening and it gave her a surge of strength. As she wrenched one arm away from him, to her surprise, the man let go of her. But the unexpected movement made her stumble backwards a step, and too late she saw out of the corner of her eye the reason why. There was barely time to turn as with a rush of air something came crashing into the side of her head. Stella blinked, the shock and pain of the blow registering for a fraction of a second before her senses shattered and she fell into oblivion.

-----

Danny stared in awe as he entered the UN building with Flack. It was the first time he'd ever stepped foot in the place. A little surprising maybe, considering he was a born and bred New Yorker, but the place had never held any appeal and as he hadn't worked the Evie Pierpont case, there had never been any reason for him to be there, until now. Of course it had also appeared on a High School trip calendar, but having no interest, he just made sure he wasn't at school that day.

Now it was payback time and he was a little envious when as Flack confidently strode through the lobby towards the office he had visited the day before, he was still getting his head around the important people who would be filling the halls in just a few days time. He followed his friend rather more slowly and held his arm across his chest easing the ache in his bruised ribs. Shaking his head and trying to assemble his thoughts, Danny wondered how things were going at the lab trying to trace Stella and Mac. He still could not understand why someone would want to abduct them.

It was true Mac had been kidnapped and stalked before, but this had seemed to happen without warning. Or had it? Danny paused in his thinking; hadn't Mac said something about a warning when he was in the hospital? And there was that note as well. There just seemed to be way more questions than answers right now and he hoped his and Flack's impromptu trip to the UN would start the ball rolling in their favour.

After a brief and fruitless conversation with the Chief of Security, they were escorted to another area, the offices of the interpretation service. A barrage of questions to the service co-ordinator merely served to confirm that their latest victim had indeed worked at the UN and was scheduled to translate for some of the top Middle Eastern Heads of State in the coming week. It also emerged that she had left work on time the previous evening to have dinner with a friend. Danny noticed Flack stiffen a little when they probed into who the friend might be and discovered a link back to the British Delegation.

Their next stop was the third floor offices of the British Delegation. Each Delegation had a small suite of offices to use as a base for support staff during meetings. They didn't know whether to expect anyone present, but Flack seemed relieved when they were greeted by a man who introduced himself as Jim Swain, the senior security officer for the delegation.

"Detective Flack, good afternoon, how can we help?" he greeted them. Danny didn't miss his friend taking a look over the man's shoulder to see who else was present.

"We have some questions," Flack answered brusquely, which did not seem to ruffle Swain; he simply led them towards the office.

A moment later they were inside and being offered coffee with introductions being formally made. Danny was aware that Flack was distracted and he couldn't figure out why, so he opened up to the Security Officer himself. "Mr Swain, are you aware of anyone in the delegation who might have known an interpreter who worked here?"

Swain nodded as he sipped his coffee. "A number of our staff know the interpreters and other people who work here, is there anyone in particular?"

"A Zafirah Malak," Flack answered checking his memo book. "Specialises in Arabic."

"Tali's the one you should speak too, she knows a number of the Arabic interpreters, it helps her keep up her language skills."

"Tali?" queried Danny as he noted Flack stiffening again a little at the name and the stony look that appeared in his eyes.

"Sorry, Natalia Hunt, our Liaison Officer. She grew up in the Middle East, her Arabic is almost as good as her English. Why do you need to know?" The older man gazed with curiosity at them and blew on his drink.

Danny sighed, Flack wasn't too forthcoming with this discussion so he pressed on himself. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but we found Ms Malak's body this morning and the Interpretation co-ordinator said she had dinner last night with a friend at your office."

As he noticed the look of concern cross the security officer's face, he asked him. "Did you know her?"

Swain sighed heavily, and the hand holding the mug of coffee shook a little as he set it down. "Not well, but I do know that she was supposed to have dinner with Tali last night and she never arrived."

"Where is Miss Hunt now? We need to speak with her," Don asked suddenly, breaking his former silence. Remembering their discussion on the way over Danny glanced at him, but rather than the outright anger and disdain which he had expected to hear in his voice, for once, he was unable to read what his friend was really thinking.

"She's on her way to a meeting, I'll call her and have her meet you in the foyer if you would like?"

"We would," Flack replied firmly and Danny raised his eyebrows.

A few moments later they were outside the office on their way to follow the lead, but Danny still couldn't make out Flack's thinking; he was too quiet and pensive.

"Penny for them?"

"What?" Flack snapped his head round to him, and then relaxed. "Sorry, I just can't get my head around how closely she's involved with everything."

"I take it you mean Ms Hunt... You know it could just be coincidence."

"Three bodies, two of them come back to her how much of a coincidence can it be?" It was Flack's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Come on Flack, she's a freakin' diplomat, why would she commit murder?"

"It's been done before. Remember Jenny Lee? A guy with the Tescara consulate killed her," snapped Flack with an element of repressed anger and disgust.

"Yeah, but for a woman to take on guys who had a hundred pounds and a good couple of inches on her? Come on, don't tell me that's likely."

Danny challenged his friend's disbelief in the way things were stacking up, fearing that his current emotional problems may be clouding his judgment.

"Jess could do it..."

He realised that Flack had spoken before engaging his brain at that moment, and his friend knew too that it was the first impulsive thing he had said about her in months. Almost the first time he had even voluntarily spoken her name, however the deep look of sadness which washed over him had Danny wondering where things would go next. He didn't know what to say to shake his friend from the melancholy he looked like he was about to descend into, and not for the first time, wished that there was someone else present to lend their wisdom.

"I know man," he sighed. "But she had training and she was damned good at her job. Diplomats aren't usually trained to kill, especially British ones, they're usually your soft-spined aristocracy..."

Interrupting his flow, not that he was ungrateful at that moment, Danny felt his phone vibrate and pulled it from his pocket as he cast a glance at Flack.

"Messer, ... yeah Linds," he listened for a few minutes, heaving a groan at what his wife was telling him. Then he made a rapid decision. "Okay, I'm on my way. Hang in there." Cancelling the call he looked at the homicide detective again. "They need me back at the lab, Sinclair's busting their balls, you good to meet Ms Hunt alone?"

He watched Flack look around the Foyer, his trained eye scanning the area. "Any news on Mac and Stella?" he asked.

Danny shook his head, his eyes full of emotion; it had been the first thing Lindsay had told him.

Don nodded despondently. "Yeah, sure, go ahead. Call me if there's anything I can do." His last few words were spoken with an edge of desperation, leaving Danny almost at a loss for words.

"Sure, yeah," he mumbled inadequately, before walking as hastily as he could away towards the exit, leaving Flack to wait for the woman who Danny felt sure was adding to his friend's sleepless nights. However, his one hopeful thought was that he was glad his friend had called her earlier - the distraction as they interviewed Jim Swain in the Delegation offices had indicated that something was going on in Flack's mind over the woman, and he hoped this meeting would clear the air between them.

------

As the woman sank to the ground, Dirk caught her instinctively, breaking her fall forwards. Then he lowered her limp form, leaving her laid out half on her side, half on her front, with one arm lying next to her face and the other tucked beneath her.

He looked up at Ali and raised his eyebrows at the sight of him breathing heavily, a metal rod clasped in his hand. "Kind of excessive, don't you think? You didn't need to hit the poor girl, I was handling her myself."

Ali snorted and tossed the rod to the side. It struck the floor with a clang and rolled a short distance, the metallic echoes ringing round the vast space. "Yeah? Looked to me like you were in need of some assistance, and don't try and tell me you don't want to get out of here as fast as possible as well, didn't see any point wasting time struggling with her."

Dirk grunted non-committally; if he was honest, his ego had been a little bruised in the struggle with the woman. As Ali's no doubt had as well. "She kick you where it hurt this time?" he asked slyly.

His companion ignored him. "Can't deny she's a lot easier to handle in this state."

A smirk crossed Dirk's lips as his assessment of Ali's body as well as pride being wounded was confirmed when he saw him wince and rub himself in a delicate area. "She fooled you good, huh?" Despite his bruised ribs and foot, he couldn't help feeling a sneaking admiration for the woman. "Guess she didn't get so much of a dose as Taylor; woke up early."

Then squatting on his haunches beside her, he tilted her chin and studied her face.

"Pretty thing, isn't she?" he mused. "Feisty too. Wonder how Taylor feels about her?" He remembered the look of fury on the man's expression earlier at the wasteground when he had seen her under attack and the ferocity of his attempt to defend her.

It seemed that answered his question.

Ali huffed and kicked out at the rod he had dropped. "Who cares? She's done more than enough damage. Dump her with Taylor and let's get the hell out of here. Then we can get all this crap over and done with, and get what we came into this for..." He stopped and stared fearfully round at the walls. "I'm telling you, this place is going to go any minute, it's not safe, come on!"

"Sure isn't," Dirk agreed, and then as he glanced at the woman again, he was surprised to feel a pang of regret at their actions. Rain beat hard against the windows, and there was a series of crashes from outside, as, he guessed more tiles slipped off the roof.

"Go get the van going," he turned to Ali who was waiting with a scowl on his face. "I'll see to the little lady."

"Yeah? Just make sure you're quick, 'cause if you're not out in five minutes, I'm driving off without you!" Ali tossed a set of handcuffs towards him. "Put them back on her, wouldn't trust her not to be faking it even now."

Dirk stretched his hand out to her head. "Oh I don't think she's faking it this time," he said softly, as his probing fingers found the lump already swelling on her skull. "You got her good."

His fingertips, when he withdrew them from her hair, were wet with blood.

"Then that makes me happy..." Ali slanted his eyes at him. "Didn't take you for the tender-hearted type. Don't tell me you're going soft."

"Call it old-fashioned chivalry and my Mama teaching me to never hit a girl," Dirk bated him. "Guess _your_ Mama didn't teach you the same manners..."

"Woman's a cop, same as Taylor, they expect a few knocks." Ali sullenly failed to rise and Dirk lifted his shoulders. Then the younger man's face tightened up. "This isn't getting us out of here... Now either go dump her, or I'll do it and you can get out of here by yourself."

"Fine," Dirk huffed, but picked up the handcuffs Ali had tossed towards him, and turned the woman gently onto her back. Her head fell to the side and there wasn't a flicker of awareness in her face as he placed her arms in front of her and fastened the cuffs round her wrists. "Sorry about this, sugar," he said, snapping them into place. He knew he really didn't have a choice, though at least he could offer himself the consolation that she seemed to have enough gumption and resourcefulness to get out of this place alive. He hoped so anyhow. It would be a shame, he decided, seeing the dribble of blood running down her ear, to think he had condemned her to death. Even though he knew that given a choice between saving his ass or saving the life of a cop whose purpose was to see his freedom curtailed, he would choose himself every time.

But it did not stop him scooping her up off the floor with a measure of care that was not solely in consideration of his back. She was lighter than expected, and he barely broke into a sweat as he trudged across the warehouse floor with her in his arms to where they had left her partner. Ali strode in front of him, stopping in front of the section of broken-in floor and assuming a commanding attitude as he peered into the shadowed cavern.

Dirk halted at the edge and leaned precariously over. Taylor had not moved, and his body lay in the same crumpled position he had landed in when they heaved him over the edge. Even in the weak light, his face was wax pale, and there appeared to be a dark glistening of blood on his upper arm.

"Toss her in," Ali ordered, his hand jittering at his side.

"I'm tossing no one!" he snapped back. "My back and my chiropractor don't stand for me tossing anything. Take hold of her legs and we'll lower her in."

Swearing loudly, Ali nonetheless obeyed and grasped the woman's legs, whilst Dirk adjusted himself so he was holding her under the arms. In tandem, they crouched and lowered her into the hole as far as they could so she was a few feet over the body of Taylor.

"Okay," Dirk grunted. "Let her go."

He released his grip as Ali did the same, and she plummeted into the gloom, landing with a soft thud across her partner's torso. They stood back from the hole and looked down at the two detectives. Right at that moment, Dirk felt nothing else but glad he was not where they were; water was already lapping at Taylor's shoes and a broken pipe was spewing out more to join it.

As the wind shivered round them, keening and wailing, he rubbed his hands up and down his arms and backed away rapidly, not wanting to look any more. The pale faces of the man and woman would haunt him if he looked at them much longer.

"Let's go," he said abruptly, burying any more twinges of conscience and marching away. Ali soon caught up to him and it was in silence that they hurried out of the warehouse and into their van.

As Ali started up the engine, a barrage of tiles thundered from the roof and more window panes crashed to the ground, inches from them.

"Just drive!" Dirk ordered, pretending his voice was not shaking. The van spun out of control for a second, before Ali, white-faced and trembling, wrestled it back, then he stamped on the gas pedal and they shot forwards.

Neither of them looked back.

* * *

_I think most of us are agreed on the Adam/Stella question, but some of our future chapters may have references to other aspects of canon, thank you all for your feedback._

_So Lily lied a little about the last chapter having no cliff hanger, we should therefore warn you now that there will be more of them, along with some pretty tense sub plots running into the climax. Hope to still hear from you all with your feedback._


	15. Drowned and Lost

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! And of course, plenty more action with MS and our other favourite pairings to come (if they all survive the peril of course...)_

_Thank you to _Juliette _and _Didi_ for your reviews – we hope you enjoy this chapter also_

Chapter 15 - Drowned and Lost

Day: 12

Opening Scene: UN Building

Time of Day: Late afternoon

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate (3 days)

* * *

Natalia, on her way to meet with Detective Flack, found herself with a strange feeling of anticipation in her stomach as she clicked in her heels along the corridors of the building, the grandeur of the building making itself felt as always. She saw the tall Detective before he saw her; he was standing with his hands in his pockets, a melancholy look on his face and a distant expression in his eyes. Frowning slightly, Natalia steeled herself to face more rudeness from him as she approached. Her hand was held out though, and after a moment's hesitation, he took it.

His handshake was brief but firm, and his hand fitted naturally into hers.

"Detective..." she began, and was cut off.

"Miss Hunt, I have two Detectives missing, two of my colleagues, so I don't have time for pleasantries. Is there a place we can talk?"

There was a pause as she blinked and stared at him. She had not been expecting courtesy, but what he had just thrown at her took her breath away. This was _not_ how she expected to be spoken to. Her face set into a cold mask and she let her hand drop.

"We can talk in the library," she snapped, and turned on her heel, not waiting to see if he followed.

It took a moment before she heard his footsteps hurrying up behind her, and he materialised at her side.

"Look, Miss Hunt..."

"I'm sorry your colleagues are missing, but I fail to see how I can help with that matter," she said, keeping her gaze fixed firmly ahead of her. "And I have another appointment in half an hour, so I hope we can keep this brief." His rudeness was really annoying her now and she couldn't help but let it out a little as she spoke.

An irritated sigh left his lips, before he touched her arm.

"Listen, I'm... sorry," he said in a low voice. "That was rude of me. I'm a little under pressure right now, with Detective Taylor and Detective Bonasera missing, it's put all of us under stress..."

The news sent a shock through her and she gaped at him for a moment. "_They're_ the ones missing? Since when? How?"

As a gaggle of personnel came hurrying along the corridor, she steered him by his elbow against the wall, and lowered her voice. "I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?"

His eyes were bleak. "We're not certain... This isn't the place to discuss it..." his eyes followed the men and women as they brushed past with murmured apologies.

"No, no, of course not," Natalia said hastily. "As I said, the library is the best place to talk, it will be fairly empty now." She softened as she saw the expression in his face. "We can take as long as is necessary, this is important."

He nodded and they continued along the corridor together.

* * *

"Thank God!" Lindsay exclaimed as she saw him step off the elevator and walk towards her, still guarding his damaged ribs. "Where the hell have you been?"

Danny eyed her, a little confused and irked that she was cross with him. "I told you I was going to the UN. What's the problem?"

"I thought it meant you were seeing Flack off to the UN not going yourself, I told you to stay in the lab!"

Her voice began to rise and he widened his eyes at her.

"Easy Linds, Flack needed a friend, I walked around the UN a little that's all. What have you got?"

"Apart from earache from the Chief and Hawkes and Adam moaning because we've got nothing from Mac's SUV?" she huffed, and Danny breathed an inner sigh of relief that she seemed to be letting his disappearing act slide for the moment. However, he also realised with a slight sinking feeling, there would be time to take him to task after the case was over and they had found Mac and Stella.

"Alright, let's take it one step at a time," he sighed. "We'll meet and discuss it. Have Sid come up with all the autopsy reports and we'll go over everything again." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her towards the break room, as she sagged into his side a little. "What's Sinclair saying?"

Lindsay looked up at him, a pained look in her brown eyes. "He's got the media on his back about the murders and with the Heads of Governments flying in we need to get a handle on the connection and deal with it. He wants it all wrapped up with pretty bows in less than two days! I told him the evidence isn't giving us anything to go on, so he's wanting to go old school and start leaning on people, which is fine, but we have no idea who we could possibly start with!" It was clear from the speed and tone of her voice that she was deeply anxious about Mac and Stella as well as frustrated with the lack of evidence. "He wants to be able to give the press a rosy picture to paint to the dignitaries, but-" She didn't let up or slow down and Danny had little chance of saying anything unless he forcefully interrupted.

"Whoa, Linds, take a breath! Calm down babe, we'll figure it out, I know you're worried about everyone-"

Her agitation was not easily suppressed though and she pulled away from him, fear beginning to show in her face. "It's not just Mac and Stella though! We've all worked at least one of those UN cases, I've worked two, what if they come after all of us?"

Before he could answer heavy footsteps and panting caught their attention as Adam rushed in.

"We got prints off the note sent to Mac! Hawkes is tracking down Flack to go pick up the guy, a junkie from Port Authority Area."

While Adam attempted to catch his breath, Danny took the piece of paper he was flapping at them and scanned it quickly before looking up at the younger man. "Flack's still at the UN. Linds, call Hawkes tell him to get Scagnetti or someone to pick this kid up, we need him back here, we need everyone we got to go over the evidence again."

"_Again?_" Adam squawked, "We've already done everything at least twice!"

"And we'll do it again and as many times as it takes us to find something that will locate Mac and Stella and the murderers." Danny answered authoritatively, the ache in his ribs almost forgotten. "Bring everything you have Adam, Conference room in 5 minutes... Oh and find someone to send out for food. We ain't going anywhere until this is sorted."

* * *

The first thing Mac became aware of was the thumping pain in his head; a rhythm akin to the beat that pumped out of the city's dance clubs. His eyes would not open at first; they seemed to be stuck, his eyelids welded together, but he had a feeling that any movement would be agonising.

A groan slid from his lips as his senses re-formed gradually, each one sending messages of pain to his throbbing brain. Involuntarily, he blinked, and the movement sent lances of pain through his eye sockets. Closing his eyes again in agony, he lay motionless, breathing raggedly, realising with a dull sense of surprise that it was causing him more effort than it should.

As slowly as possible, he opened his eyes again, trying to ignore the shockwaves of pain still shooting through him. A greyish light swirled round him, which misted and fogged and gradually began to form dim shapes. The movement of his vision caused a sudden surge of nausea and he fought for a moment to keep his stomach still. He gulped several times, and again felt something weighing on his chest and abdomen. As yet though, he was unable to move his eyes enough to discover what it was.

Whilst his vision oscillated in a seasick fashion, he began to realise that the legs of his pants from the knee down were soaking wet. The sodden material seemed to be stuck to his skin; cold and clinging like drowned hands. He shivered violently, the convulsions passing through him in freezing waves.

Once the sickness it had generated subsided, he risked opening his eyes a little wider and moving his gaze down in an attempt to see what was lying on top of him.

It was a warm, soft weight that yielded when his muscles shifted. With his vision still blurred as if someone had smeared grease over his eyes, he could at first only make out a dark shape, with a pale oval at the top surrounded by more darkness. Feeling the strain almost unbearably in his neck muscles, Mac raised his head as much as he was able to.

And then as his sight finally swayed into focus, and he blinked again, he saw exactly what, and who, was on top of him.

Stella.

Positioned diagonally across him, her head tipped back slightly over his chest, she lay unmoving with her eyes closed.

Panic flooded him and his breathing started to hitch in his chest. "Stella..." he creaked, barely able to make his vocal cords work. "Stella!"

He coughed, pain and nausea wracking him again, and as his chest heaved it shifted her body slightly, but did not rouse her.

"_Stella!_"

Stronger this time, nonetheless, his voice still would not come out much more than a rasping whisper, and fighting against the ache in his muscles, Mac tried to lift his head higher.

It was only then he became aware of his hands trapped behind him. Trapped with what felt like handcuffs. But for the moment, that was unimportant. Nothing mattered more than establishing that Stella was alive. And if not...

He obliterated that thought before it even began.

Finding some restricted movement in his hands, he pushed down and gained some purchase to drag himself back a few inches. The top of his head touched a cold, solid surface and he stopped, wheezing heavily. There was a stab of pain in his right arm, but he ignored it. He had more important things to worry about.

Stella had still not moved, but as his sight cleared further he could see at last the light rise and fall of her chest. She was breathing. She was alive. And as yet, he could see no visible injuries on her. His head thudded back against the concrete behind him and he closed his eyes in relief. For a moment he stayed like that, feeling the warmth of her body start to seep into him.

He needed her to wake up, because he needed to know she was all right, and he needed to know he was not alone, wherever he was. Wherever _they_ were. The time before he had come back to awareness was in shadow; vague images of sitting in a car, of rain, of Stella looking at him and saying something, of her struggling with a figure...

He should have listened to her.

That realisation jolted his eyes open. Stella had told him; back up, they should have waited for back up. _He_ should have waited.

Mac's eyes dropped shut and he groaned in despair. The decision he had made, ignoring the advice, had led to this situation; trapped and near-helpless, lying with his hands tied behind him in a hole rapidly filling with water, with his partner lying unconscious on top of him.

Then there was a soft moan and his eyes shot open again.

"Stella?" he rasped. "Come on Stella, wake up..." His mind flying back to another time, one when he had free hands, used to touch her face and help her focus, another time when he was sickened by her unconscious, beaten form after what that bastard Frankie had inflicted on her.

Anger at that memory pushed bile into his gut, but he couldn't think about that, there was a more pressing need to focus on what was happening right now.

Stella's head shifted minutely and her lips parted but there was not a flicker of her eyelids. Mac, shuffling himself downwards, using his knuckles to move his body so he was almost lying flat again, began to turn himself as slowly and as carefully as he could onto his side. As he turned, he used his upper arm to push her gently until she slid down so she was propped up against his chest, curls hanging forward over her face. He nudged her with his bicep.

"Stella, you with me? Open your eyes for me, come on..."

Her head lifted a fraction and he felt a starburst of relief in his chest.

"Head... hurts..." she murmured almost inaudibly, and Mac, almost giddy with thankfulness to hear her voice curled himself round, trying to support her as much as possible in his restricted position. Bending his knees up, his thighs rested lightly against her and his stomach was against her back; taking her weight for the moment.

"You all right? You remember... what happened?" he croaked and coughed, feeling her body shake in response to his.

Her head drooped, but then with a sighing groan she raised it a little.

"Got hit..." she mumbled. "Two of them... bastards..."

The disconnected feelings and nausea that consumed him cleared faster as rage took over, rage at the SOBs who dared attack them... attack _her_ ... leave her unconscious: his mind whirled with thoughts of the pain he would inflict on them in return.

"Mac?" her voice was low and strained as she fought to regain consciousness. "Are you... they hurt you?" she asked, then let out a moan when she moved her head to try and look at him.

"Easy Stella, don't move yet, I'm a little fuzzy... it'll pass."

"Those ... bas..." In her semi-conscious state she could barely form her words. "They're _mine!_" she finally hissed, anger evident in her tone, and Mac curled his lips into a small smile. She was getting mad, that was a good sign, if she wasn't mad he'd be really worried.

"We'll find them Stella, I promise," he assured her letting his head drop back as he rested for a moment. They would, he knew they would. Because both of them would be looking for them, together.

As a crashing sound came from somewhere around them, he felt Stella flinch against him but still disoriented, he couldn't identify where exactly it came from. It sounded uncomfortably close though. Several other crashes followed in quick succession and the howling wind could be heard ripping through the building...

Realising he was in danger of drifting away as dizziness attacked him again, Mac finally managed to focus his eyes on their surroundings and groaned a little more. He could see the metal and glass panels in the ceiling, and they were large and rusted, a sure sign of neglect. Some were even missing, leaving great gaping holes, with no attempt made to cover them. Holes that the wind and rain were taking delight in rattling and whooping through. He couldn't see much around them, but the sound of the wind blowing through the building indicated a large empty space. He thought he could also make out old iron pipes, but he couldn't be a hundred percent sure as the throbbing in his head began again from the concentration. The pain in his arm also made itself felt. Another groan escaped his lips.

"Mac?" Stella's voice displayed her concern, even in her stuporous state.

"I'm guessing we're in some kind of warehouse, probably abandoned... due for demolition. Can you move? We need to try and get out of here."

"I know... Saw it when I woke up... first time."

Mac fixed his eyes on the woman still leaning against him and watched as she slowly stretched her back, and then as she turned to him, he saw the spark back in her eyes; a spark of anger. She raised her arms a little and he saw the reason why.

"Bastards cuffed me, again..."

Then she shifted a little more, and confusion spread over her face. "Mac? Why am I all wet?" That was when he realised that the wet and cold sensation he had felt earlier in his legs had now seeped practically all over his body and they were lying in a pool of water.

One which he now realised wasn't subsiding.

It was getting deeper.

* * *

Scagnetti entered the lab and hurried along the corridor until he located the people he was looking for in the conference room. "Glad you guys are here, we just had a string of 911 calls about something going on over at the UN and Flack's unreachable."

"The UN? You sure?" asked Danny looking up from the evidence spread out before him with a flash of concern crossing his face. "Flack's still over there, he was meeting Natalia Hunt from the British Delegation. Anything we can do?"

"SWAT and the marines are en route and everyone from the Mayor down is on everyone else's ass about sorting this mess out. I sent one of my boys down to the Port Authority to pick up your guy so I can get a handle on this." Scagnetti stood facing the CSIs.

"What do we know about what's happening inside?" Hawkes had concern also washing over his face as he glanced at Danny.

"We got nothing, only that the library has been sealed off with a number of delegates and staff inside."

"Can we get access to any CCTV to figure out what we're dealing with?" Lindsay asked him.

"We don't know yet... I was going to contact Flack and head over there myself, meet him and see what we can get," Scagnetti replied, a frown crossing his face. "But he's not answering his phone."

* * *

Natalia escorted Flack through the labyrinthine building to the library, and he was glad of her guidance, knowing he would never have found the way himself. it seemed to take hours before they stopped in front of a large and imposingly carved door. His companion seemed unfazed though as she pushed it open and stepped inside. As the door closed behind them she stopped and looked around.

"That's odd. The guard's not here," she murmured quietly. Flack looked at her and shrugged.

"Maybe he's on a walk about."

"No he's always at the door," she scanned the entrance again, perturbed before taking a few steps into the room. Flack followed, unconcerned with the matter, his thoughts still occupied with Mac and Stella, his mind insisting on re-running the image of their car at the wasteground, their phones, the river...

And then Flack's full attention was diverted back to the library as Natalia gave a small cry of surprise and almost stepped back into him.

He looked up and looked into the barrel of a gun; a gun pointing right at Natalia.

"Welcome to the party missy... Who's your friend?" asked the man holding the weapon, a ski mask over his face, and a casual tone to his voice.

Flack's hand was half on his own gun, but it remained holstered as he felt the cold steel of a gun barrel pushed to the back of his neck and a moment later, a hand relieved him of his weapon.

"Thought you could drop us detective? You got a back up piece?" sneered a second male voice.

Flack shook his head his eyes fixed on Natalia as she stared down the guy in front of her. The second raider pushed him towards the wall with the gun barrel. "Spread 'em let's see what else you're packing." Flack hesitated debating what to do and how to get Natalia out of the way. He may not particularly like the woman, but she was a civilian and he needed to protect her.

Before he could formulate any sort of plan Natalia was spun away from him and stood facing him with the raider's arm around her neck, a gun digging into her side "Just in case you're thinking of trying anything, your girl here is our insurance." Flack looked at her, and was a little surprised by the look she gave him; she seemed composed and calm as she met his gaze. Her blue eyes shining back at him. It was as if she was trying to give him a message, but he was failing to understand her, and for one sickening moment, he was back in the diner, Jess lying in front of him, bleeding from the gunshot wounds in her shoulder and abdomen.

He could not let that happen again to anyone.

As he glanced between her and the gunman, assessing their chances as rapidly as possible, he noticed the guy's arm tighten around her throat. At the same time he was prodded again with the gun in the hands of the man behind him. He was given a third push, this time more forceful and he finally complied with their demands. Now was not the time to play hero, he would bide his time and wait for the right opportunity.

The second man frisked him briefly. Flack could tell he didn't really know what he was doing as he missed his jacket pocket in favour of relieving him of his cuffs, phone and badge, the former of which were quickly wrapped around his left wrist as he sensed Natalia pushed towards him and the other portion wrapped around her left one, while it left his gun hand free, it made it quite awkward to move with them entangled as they were. "There, that should make you think twice about trying anything." The second man sneered in Flack's ear.

Flack ignored him and glanced at Natalia. "You alright?" he whispered.

"Fine," she half snapped back. He thought for a moment she was going to say something else, but having met his eyes for a second she turned to the guy standing to her right. "So you've got us now what?"

He hefted his gun, the end of it never leaving them. "So now you do as you're told. You can get over there with the rest of our guests." Indicating a small group of men and women crouched with terror in their eyes below the window, guarded by another four masked and armed figures, the man pushed them roughly over towards them. The missing security guard was roped to a chair at the side of the room; a gag was over his mouth, but frantic, muffled sounds issued from him.

"You going to tell us what the hell this is about?" Flack risked a question as they were pushed down to the ground a little apart from the group.

A gun jabbed into his side. "You'll find out when we're ready to tell you," was the answer snarled at him from the second man. "Now keep quiet unless you want to find out how many bullets I got in this gun!"

Then he bent down and tipped Flack's badge with the barrel of his gun and the tone of his voice changed. "Try anything heroic, and you'll be joining the other two detectives who thought they were smarter than us."

It felt like a stone had dropped into his gut and Flack stared at the man. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what and who I'm talking about," the man sneered. "Detective Taylor and his partner. Friends of yours are they?" then he laughed vindictively. "Or guess I ought to say _were_ they, because by my reckoning, right about now, they'll be under several feet of water. You'll be lucky to find their bodies."

"You sonofabitch!" Flack roared as he tried to launch himself towards the man, forgetting he was cuffed to Natalia, horror and disbelief powering him forwards. "You scum! If you've done anything, _anything_ to hurt either of them I'll have your sorry ass..."

The butt of the gun cracked him hard in the side of his face and he fell back, his head ringing, against Natalia who had fallen back alongside him.

"Shut your face!" the man hissed. "You'll do as we tell you, unless you want to end up like them!"

"You'll pay for this..." Flack croaked hoarsely. "If anything's happened to them, I won't be the only one hunting you down..."

His senses began to reel and he slumped against Natalia as the man laughed.

"Detective! _Don!_" Using her free hand, she shook his shoulder and hissed in an undertone. "Listen, whatever they're saying about your friends, don't believe it, okay? Okay?"

He shook his head, struggling to free himself of the almost catatonic despair that had overpowered him so quickly.

Natalia shook him harder and he finally managed to speak. "They're dead... they killed them. Mac and Stell... oh God..." His head dropped into his hands and his body slumped against her.

Then his vision began to phase in and out of focus and he was only vaguely aware of a female voice talking to him, asking if he was all right, and a soft hand on his arm. But he couldn't answer anymore, couldn't respond in any way.

All he could see was the image of Mac and Stella, his friends, drowned and lost.

* * *

'_So Lily lied a little about last chapter having no cliffhanger'? *Lily splutters indignantly at Forest's accusation* She does, however, concede that this chapter might have a small cliffie... We hope the danger in last chapter wasn't too much, please review and let us know what you think – all thoughts are welcome and help us update faster! Thanks, Lily and Forest x_

_PS Our other stories 'Old West' by Lily and 'Beacons' by Forest have also been updated recently._


	16. Can things get any worse?

_**Disclaimer:**__ We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

**Didi** - You're welcome for the update, we hope you like this offering.

Forest had the following quote sent to her this week and we think it is particularly apt for this chapter: _**Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly**_

********************

**Chapter 16 - Can things get any worse?**

Day: 12

Opening Scene: NYC Crime Lab

Time of Day: Evening

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate (3 days)

* * *

In the conference room of the lab, Adam watched anxiously as Hawkes pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialled Flack's number. "Anyone got a number for Natalia Hunt? Maybe he's left her and is driving back?"

Danny shuffled through contact details from one of the files on the edge of the counter. "Got it!" he exclaimed pulling his phone from his pocket and starting to dial. Moments later he shook his head and sighed. "Nada... I should have stayed."

"No, Danny, you shouldn't!" Lindsay snapped and Adam glanced at Hawkes, waiting apprehensively for what else she might say. It was painfully apparent she was on the edge. "You shouldn't have taken off like that, you were needed more here, it didn't need two of you to speak to Miss Hunt. From what I've heard it's something he needed to do for himself."

"No answer from Don," Hawkes interjected. "I'll keep trying."

Lindsay was shaking now, probably at the thought that if Danny had stayed with Flack, he too would now be missing. If the situation were not so serious, Adam considered, it would be farcical: first Mac and Stella, and now Flack - their team was becoming sadly depleted.

"Can things get any worse?" Lindsay said heavily, looking around at her remaining colleagues as she voiced Adam's own fears.

No one had an answer for her and a bleak silence fell.

It was broken by Scagnetti. "I'm going to head over there anyway I'll let you know if I find out anything," he told them before leaving the room in a hurry.

Danny stared after him then wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulder. "Listen, I didn't go for any other reason than to give Flack some support, he needed some time out, I hope it does some good. He'll be all right." He looked round at them all. "Don't worry, we'll find them, all of them. I'm not letting the bastards do anything more to this team ... to this family."

His last word gave a lurch to Adam's stomach. He had found a family amongst the people he worked with and with the two linchpins of that family taken away, they had been left in danger of collapse. Mac, he had the utmost respect for as a man and his boss, and Stella... well, his feelings about her were a little more personal following that one night. Even though he knew it would never happen again - not least from seeing the way she looked at the man who was the most important in her life, her partner - he had no ill-feelings. There was a tinge of regret, moments of jealousy, but overruling that now was the hope that Mac and Stella were still alive to have the chance to make something concrete of their complicated relationship...

"Adam!" Danny's voice made him jump, and realise he had been staring at the same monitor for at least a minute. "You still with us?"

Hawkes was looking at him with his eyebrow raised, and Lindsay had a curious expression. Adam flushed and tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked from toe to heel. "Yeah, uh, sorry..."

"Call UN security, see if they've got any more for us," Danny instructed. "We need every piece of information we can get a hold of."

"You got it," he rummaged for a phone whilst Danny returned to his call. Then as his eyebrows raised in surprise, Adam paused.

After a moment of silence he held up his hand and everyone froze. _'I got an answer!_' he mouthed. A second later and his face screwed up again. "No, wait... Aaadaaam!" he yelled suddenly, making him jump. "I got something, we got an open line, can you get us anything?"

Snatching Danny's phone, he spent a minute or two fiddling with it and various connectors, working as fast as he could to give his colleagues an answer. "It's definitely an open line..." he tapped a few more keys, listening intently and then shook his head, annoyed at himself. "But no one's talking, at least not at a level I can pick up... but I _have_ traced the cell, it's in the UN Library."

"If they got Natalia, there's a good chance Flack is with her," commented Hawkes, picking up on the information Danny had given them a few minutes earlier.

Adam gave him a quick nod as he tapped his pen on the counter, and after a moment he picked up some sounds on the recorder. Grabbing a pen and paper he jotted down what he was picking up from the sound waves, hardly believing it. "Oh my, I haven't seen that in a while."

"What?" Lindsay asked looking at him expectantly, her eyes fixed and wide displaying the inner turmoil over the latest turn of events.

"Like I said, I haven't seen it in a while... I _think_ it's Morse code," Adam replied staring between the sound waves being generated on his screen and what he had noted on the paper in his hand. The others gathered round him for a better look.

_**-.. ..-. / -. .... / ..- -. / .-.. .. -... / --- -.- / -.... -... --.**_

"Can you decipher it?" prompted Danny hopefully, almost breathing down his ear as they listened to the heavily amplified tones coming from the phone.

"I - I think so." Adam felt his face flushing at being under the scrutiny of the others. But trying not to let himself be daunted, he studied the message for a moment as it came in, confident that he could review it again after from the recording he was making. "I'm a little rusty, I think we should find the alphabet... just to be sure."

"I'll do it."

Ever reliable, Hawkes moved swiftly to another computer and began running a search to pull up the Morse code key.

About five minutes later, the call having cancelled, everyone was still hovering expectantly around Adam. He looked up from where he had been working with the key Hawkes had found for him. "I got _something_, it's a little weird, but-"

"It's okay Adam, just give us what you got," advised Hawkes comfortingly, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"It says _DF NH UN Lib, OK, 6BG,"_ he paused. Hawkes, Lindsay and Danny looked confused.

"Is that it?" asked Danny anxiously. "Then we're going to need a code to decode the message."

"I don't know..." Hawkes began squinting at what Adam was displaying on screen. "I think I understand it... DF, NH, Don Flack, Natalia Hunt. UN Lib, UN Library."

"I see where you're going with this. OK must mean they're both okay... at least for now anyway... 6BG? What the hell does that mean? Something's up, what are they trying to tell us?" Danny continued, interpreting the most obvious part of the message. Everyone puzzled over the last part for a moment, and Adam wracked his brain, wanting to continue his contribution.

"The six is obvious, but BG? Guess it could be someone's initials," he mused after a few seconds of silent thinking from everyone.

"A country maybe?" Lindsay offered.

They worked through other random possibilities, everyone throwing in their suggestions, ranging from the possible - Hawkes' 'Big Guns' to the utterly implausible - Danny's 'Bossy Girls'. Finally, an air of defeat settled over them.

"We need to know what's happening in the Library," Hawkes said tiredly. "That might help us."

"Scagnetti said something was happening and some staff and delegates appeared to be sealed in the Library," Adam began as he looked round warily. "What if there's some sort of hostage situation going on?"

"I think that's obvious," Lindsay snapped. "And Flack's caught in the middle of it."  
She bit her lip and shook her head, and Adam was dismayed to see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "We can't have anything else happen to any of us, we _can't_..."

"Yeah, but we got inside ears and eyes if Flack is there. Maybe he's trying to give us a clue," Adam continued, his voice confident as he tried to reassure Lindsay as well as himself, but he couldn't hide the shadow of frustration at the day's turn of events.

"Come on guys, we can't give up," Hawkes stared round at them all. "We got people relying on us! Come on, it's gotta mean something, BG, BG..."

Something clicked then in Adam's mind and he jumped out of his seat. "That's it! I've got it! 6BG - Six Bad Guys!"

"Adam, you're brilliant!" squealed Lindsay as she threw her arms out, but he stepped back, unwilling to be smothered in a motherly hug. The gesture, however, remained unnoticed by the other occupants of the room as Danny weighed in, to his relief.

"I'm going over there. It looks like anything to do with our murders could be linked... All roads lead to Rome."

"Or in our case, the UN," added Hawkes. "I'm going with you - someone needs to keep an eye on you and your ribs."

Before anyone could say anything or protest, they had gone, leaving the door swinging and Lindsay and Adam staring at each other.

------

Stella had no idea how long it had been since they had both regained consciousness, but it was clear they had to do something to get themselves out of the predicament they were in, and do it as fast as possible. They were both saturated to the skin and she knew that hypothermia was a distinct possibility if they remained where they were for much longer. So far though they had barely moved, remaining leaning against each other, giving themselves a chance to let their heads clear and assess where they were. Mac had shuffled back against the nearest wall and she was sitting pressed at his side; their hips were touching, and she was half-propped against him, her left side resting against his chest. Almost unconsciously, her hands had come to rest just above his knee. The proximity of him and the warmth of his body was a welcome comfort, and she knew from the way he had touched his chin to the top of her head for just a moment that he took solace in her presence as well. Even that smallest contact between them had renewed some of her strength, and Mac's as well she hoped.

Whilst they regained their senses fully, she had told Mac about what she had seen of the warehouse and they agreed it was likely they were still there somewhere. She had also given him a few more details of her attempted escape, up to the point she could remember. What she had seen in his eyes as she described her attack had sent a jolt through her; there was absolute fury seething inside him. The intensity and rawness of it had both alarmed her, and given her a strange sense of reassurance. She knew he cared for her, she had known that even before he told her in Greece, but seeing that care manifested in the emotions she saw now was almost overwhelming. The last few months had seen rifts formed and then bridged between them, and Stella determined then that as soon as they got out of their current predicament, things needed to be spoken about. Chances, she realised, needed to be taken. Life was too precarious not to do so.

But they had no idea if the team were looking for them or what trail their captors had inadvertently left behind, so for now they had to consider that they were trapped here on their own. She sighed at the prospect and her shoulders slumped. The onslaught of dizziness and sickness she had suffered after waking had still not subsided completely. It was more than likely, she decided resignedly, that she was suffering a concussion following the blow to the head inflicted on her. From the look of him, she wouldn't be surprised if Mac was as well. They were in this together though, and that was something that revived her determination.

When she felt him shift behind her, it reminded her that that they were both sopping wet as her shirt chafed her skin and she shuddered violently. In her sitting position, the water had now risen to her hips and the chill was beginning to soak into her bones. Before that could dismay her too much though, another crash sounded somewhere above them and the creaking of metal sounded with an eerie reverberation around them. She ducked her head involuntarily and felt her heartbeat leap.

"Stella, we need to get out. This place isn't safe..." Mac's voice rumbled against her.

She risked looking up at his words, her shirt pulling from her skin as she moved away from him, and saw a piece of the ceiling flapping dangerously in the storm. Even as she watched, frozen, it broke from its position and started to descend towards them. Unable to speak or move in time she screwed her eyes shut, pressed closer to Mac, her head turned into him for protection - of him, of herself - and waited for it to hit them.

A loud twang and the realisation a few seconds later that she was still alive had her look up again just as a plume of water gushed from an overhead pipe and poured over them both. She gasped at the shock of the cold, ducked her head and wiped her face as best she could with her hands bound, then turned and looked at Mac who was flicking his head from side to side, water flying off him.

"That was a little too close for comfort," she said shakily and he nodded with a grim expression.

"Much more of that and this whole place is going to collapse."

_With us inside_ were the unspoken words that hung between them as their eyes met and held.

The overhead pipe may have deflected the ceiling panel away from them, but the collision had ruptured the pipe and the water gushing out of it was quickly filling the hole they were in, and they were now waist-deep in water. Icy cold, dirty water.

Stella forced herself forward and onto her knees, putting her hands out as she realised she was still not feeling steady enough to stand up.

"We have to get these cuffs off first..."

"Agreed."

There was a splashing as Mac shifted behind her while she tried in vain to reach the rear pocket of her pants, and then she cursed the bastards for having cuffed her hands in front of her as she sank back onto her heels in frustration.

"I have a spare key in my pocket, but I can't reach it, Mac!" she was having to half-shout now above the noise of the gushing water and wind, and despite her best efforts, she was unable to control her trembling at the cold that was continuing to invade her body.

"Let me try."

She sensed Mac move again, turning round so they were back to back and then she felt his elbows nudging her as he positioned himself to reach her pocket. Cold as stone, his cuffed hands lifted her waterlogged shirt and jacket as his hands searched for their target. He did not quite meet his target; just above the waistband of her pants, his fingers grazed her skin, and she startled at the sensation.

"I'm sorry, Stella," he apologised earnestly. "I guess my aim was a little off."

"No, it's okay, you just surprised me, your hands are freezing..."

She bit back the rest of what she would have said in any other circumstances. What had shocked her most was not that he had touched her, or that his hands were cold, but more the sensation the touch had sent through her. But she couldn't think of that now, not in these circumstances, not whilst they still had to get free. "Try again Mac, we're running out of time here."

He must have sensed the agitation in her as his fingers again touched her, this time in the small of her back, which caused another shudder through her nerves.

_This is not the time..._

As she was chastising herself mentally another crash followed by a splintering sound echoed around them. Stella twisted herself, trying to turn her head over her shoulder to see what progress Mac was making, but what she saw almost took her breath away. The whole side of the pit they were in looked like something from a horror movie; cracks had appeared in the walls and water was seeping through creating a large slimy mass. If there was much more water, it couldn't hold it back and if it collapsed, they'd be stuck for sure. And not just stuck, a horrifying voice whispered in her mind, but drowned and crushed under the weight of water. Her breathing began to hitch in her chest and she felt her fingers clenching and un-clenching.

"You got it yet?" she called to Mac, trying to keep her voice level.

"I think so..."

She heard his voice close to her ear and the reassuring tone, but she knew that underneath he was just as concerned. This time as she felt his fingers on her bare skin again, she didn't flinch, instead she wriggled to help him locate her pocket and after a couple of attempts she felt two fingers slip between the layers of material. Stella held her breath, and a moment later they were gone. Mission accomplished.

"I got it. Turn around."

The water was now creeping past her waist and shaking with cold, Stella manoeuvred round as quickly as she dared in the sodden watery grave, clasped the key from Mac's stiff fingers and finally, with no small difficulty due to her own restraints, managed to release one side of the cuffs that held him. As he flexed his hand to improve the circulation she fumbled with the key and it slipped from her grasp, making a small splash as it entered the water and sank out of sight.

"Shit!"

Mac heard the curse and turned to face her.

"I dropped it!" She felt furious tears scalding the back of her eyes as she looked up at him, feeling like screaming in frustration at her clumsiness, but instead as she saw him properly for the first time in hours, her heart sank. He was pale, grey even in the wan light, his clothes were sticking to him like a second skin, there was a large patch of red on his sleeve and a gash running across his temple.

"Oh, Mac!" she stared at him in despair; the lack of movement in her hands a curse as she wanted nothing more than to touch him, to try and ease some of the damage to his skin with her fingertips.

The moment vanished though as a loud creak sounded from above, and in a sudden rush of fear, she plunged her hands into the water to feel for the key, her fingernails scraping along the floor.

And then Mac stopped her, pulling her hands above the water, holding onto them just a second longer than he needed to. "I keep one too," he murmured, finally releasing her to reach into his jacket and retrieve a small silver key. Stella felt a grateful smile grace her lips as he quickly released the cuffs around her wrist and let them splash into the water. Then, a little unsteadily, but helping and supporting each other they finally made it to their feet and assessed their escape route, just as another crash echoed, followed by the ground rumbling beneath their feet. Even standing, the water had risen to her hips, and she gripped Mac's arm as she felt herself slide on the treacherous mud beneath her.

"This place is about to come down, let's go!" she shouted as the rumbling grew in intensity.

The wall they had been leaning against seemed to be the most solid, but the top of it was a good two feet above her head.

"Mac, you're going to have to..."

There was no need for her to finish, he was already offering her his hands and a small smile.

"If you were Don, I'd be thinking twice about this," he said wryly as he boosted her up and she felt a grin form on her lips.

"You wouldn't need to, he's taller than me," she called over her shoulder as she grabbed the slippery edge of the concrete and heaved herself up. Her arms and shoulders took the brunt of the effort, and for a moment she wanted nothing more than to collapse and rest her abused muscles, but she got down on her hands and knees and grabbed hold of Mac's sleeve as he jumped up and caught the edge. His right arm was paining him, clearly, and she gave as much help as she could until he managed to slither up over the edge to safety. No sooner had he turned himself over, sitting with his ankles dangling over the edge, then the far wall that had been bulging outwards split and exploded with a roar and rage of water, swamping the pit completely.

They watched in appalled silence until their eyes were drawn together.

"Another minute..." Stella said faintly.

"Don't think about it."

Mac staggered to his feet and offered her a hand. Taking it, Stella pulled herself up and they stood there, not letting go of each other, not wanting to lose the security and safety of the connection.

Taking some of the cold from them, she squeezed his fingers and smiled, despite her teeth beginning to chatter uncontrollably. "Come on then, it's time we got out of here."

------

Flack was leaning back against the wall, his head tipped back, his eyes closed. His mind was ricocheting from one horrifying image to the next and all he could do was sit as still as possible until he could gain some bearing. This was not how his day was supposed to end. Not this way. Not again. His thoughts rebounded from seeing Jess in the diner, the gaping wound in her side and blood pooled around her to his imaginings of Mac and Stella and the moment of the team finding their cold, grey, lifeless bodies in a pool of water somewhere.

Inside him, clawing its way closer and closer to the surface, was a primal howl of anguish at the thought of more loss. More lives snatched from him. More deaths.  
He hadn't been able to help them. They had died because he had failed... It was becoming harder to breathe, he was retching for air, beginning to hyperventilate in panic. his eyes flew open and his nostrils flared. He needed to get out, the overwhelming sense of loss gnawing at him since the bastards had dropped those words was suffocating him, choking him from inside out. He needed something to do, anything, if he sat there any longer...

He couldn't think about that. His thoughts were a morass, slowly pulling him in, relentlessly.

Fighting back the tears which had never been far away in the last hour or so, he felt his face crumpling. In a futile attempt to stop them, he sniffed and raised his hand to his eyes. No one must see him cry. No one. Especially not the men guarding them: they would seize on it and exploit it, he knew for certain.

As he moved, the tug of the cuffs on his wrist sent a shooting pain up his arm and he realised then he must have been sitting with it in the same position for some time. He opened his eyes and looked at his hand as he lifted his arm and flexed his muscles. The sharp intake of breath from the woman at his side caused him to look at her. She bit back the moment of pain, but he could see it etched onto her face and he groaned inwardly and guilt added itself to the poisonous brew of emotions inside him; she wouldn't be in pain if he hadn't lost it and lunged at that guy, practically dragging her arm out of its socket. Avoiding her eyes, he eased his arm back to rest face up in her lap.

"That better?" he mumbled.

"Not really, I need to move it, I'm stiff, but it looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while, unless your friends can read Morse code and bust us out of here," she whispered so as not to attract the attention of the gunmen who were currently in deep discussion across the room.

"They'll figure it out," Flack replied listlessly, still assailed by his horrors.

Natalia looked keenly at him. "It's a long shot, no one's used Morse Code in the US since '93, the UK scrapped it in '97."

"Ross is a nerd, he'll get it, and Mac would know..." he let out a long sigh as another realisation struck a blow. "Would have known."

She glared at him and spoke sternly. "Don't think of it like that, I heard Mac's an ex Marine, he'll be resourceful and from what I saw of Detective Bonasera, she seems to be the same. You have to think positively or this is going to end badly for everyone."

It stirred resentment in him as he tried to refute her veiled accusation, and the reminder of the circumstances in which she had met Stella, after his drunken debacle, caused a deep punch of embarrassment in his stomach. "You tryin' to tell me how I should be thinking now? If you'd stayed out of the investigation we wouldn't be in this mess."

Her face darkened, and Flack felt a sudden amount of trepidation. "You still think I want your damned investigation? Get a grip Detective, I've got enough work of my own, I don't need or want yours. What does it take to get that through your thick skull!" she raised her voice as her anger finally broke out. But before he could continue the angry tirade with his own arguments, Flack noted the movement from the other side of the room as one of the gunmen approached them, weapon held out aggressively in front of him.

"Lady shut your trap! We said no talking."

"Yeah well, you cuffed me to _him_, you have to expect something! You want me to be quiet, move me over there with everyone else!"

Her anger hadn't subsided, that much was evident as she turned on their captor, and Flack felt his muscles stiffen involuntarily; if she wasn't careful she was going to upset them big time and they'd be in an even worse mess.

"Not a chance, maybe we'll let you off, listening to you two fight could be quite entertaining and we're gonna need some entertainment later to keep us awake," sneered their captor.

Natalia opened her mouth to continue, but Flack gave her an unobtrusive nudge, glared at the gunman, and hoped she'd stay quiet.

"Leave her out of this, I'm the one causing trouble, it's my investigation. Let everyone else go, if you're needing a hostage, you only need one."

The gunman laughed and Flack balled his fist.

"For a detective, you're not so smart," the man mocked. "The more hostages the better for what we've got planned. Oh yeah," he continued with a smirk as he hefted his gun in his hand, the end of it never leaving them. "We've got something big coming up and the more of you we keep here, the bigger the party and then the real bang will be so much more spectacular... Be patient detective, this party's only just getting started!"

* * *

_OK so it's another cliff hanger to finish on, we figured if there wasn't one you'd be disappointed. Forest is mostly to blame for this one as the idea was hers, even if Lily encouraged, gently. _

_Please review and give us your thoughts, we're intrigued as to what you think is going to happen in future chapters._


	17. Diversions

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! _

_Thank you to _Didi_ for your review – we hope you enjoy this chapter and we were very flattered with your comment! Thanks also to _afrozenheart412, Lost in New York _and_ Ballettmaus_ for further thoughts and discussion_

**Chapter 17 -Diversions**

Day: 12

Opening Scene: UN Plaza

Time of Day: Evening

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate (3 days)

* * *

Hawkes and Danny left their car at the edge of the cordon and pushed their way through the throng of people towards their goal. Hawkes was wary of how much Danny seemed to be jostled by the crowd as it was evident he'd got more than one elbow to his ribs, from the pained expressions which crossed his face. Their relief as they broke through and gained access to the police only area was short-lived when they were assaulted by the cries of the gathered press, cordoned off in an area separate from the general public. However, he picked up one voice above the others and scanned the faces of the assembled hacks to find its owner, it was not an easy task as the grey from the stormy afternoon and early evening was finally giving way to darkness, the sun having set over an hour ago. After watching the faces of the newshounds intently for several minutes he spotted the face he recognised from a few years ago. He nudged Danny and made his way towards the anxious young face of Reed Garrett, who himself was pushing through his peers to further attract their attention.

"Reed, what are you doing here? We thought you were still traveling."

"Got back a couple of weeks ago, I've been pretty busy and haven't had much of a chance to call Mac... I thought he'd be here." Reed edged his way along the cordon away from the main bunch of reporters.

Hawkes glanced at Danny and noted the frown appear on his face; both of them shared an expression of apprehension. They were going to have to break unpleasant news to the young man. "You'd better come with us," he replied finally while beckoning him forward. An officer keeping crowd control was about to stop him crossing the hallowed line when Hawkes gave him a nod. "He's okay Martinez, he'll stick with us, he's Mac Taylor's step son."

After noting the look of acquiesence in the young officer's face, he saw the half relief half concern in Reed's. This was not going to be an easy one to explain. In a fatherly gesture he draped his arm around Reed's shoulder and led him away from the public spectacle to a quiet corner of the plaza where they sat him on a bench.

"Dr Hawkes, please is everything alright? What do you know about the missing detectives? Is there any indication they're still alive? Who are they?" pleaded Reed, his voice slightly huskier since the Cabbie Killer had slit his throat. Then he seemed to freeze up and clutched Hawkes's arm none too gently. "Oh no... no, no..."

Hawkes dared to exchange another look with Danny and swallowed the cry he almost expelled on seeing Danny's red, tear filled eyes.

"Reed, I'm sorry, the two missing detectives are ... are Mac and Stella. ... If we'd known you were in the city we would have-"

Hawkes stopped as Reed's own teary eyes met his, choking back his own sobs.

"I'm sorry..." he faltered. "We're doing everything we can..." But as he looked at Reed he was aware of Danny out of the corner of his eye, and the hours that had passed settled themselves onto his heart, and he was suddenly horribly afraid that their everything was not going to be enough to find them alive now.

* * *

Stella looked around, trying to get her bearings in the gloom, searching for a way out. The creaking of the building seemed a lot worse now that it was almost dark, but something pale fluttering around the stairs to the overhead walkway caught her attention and she headed towards it as Mac followed closely behind her.

A folded paper half soaked from the wet ground looked out of place, and it was enough for her curiosity to pique. She half bent, half crouched down to pick it up, using gloves the farthest thing from her mind at that moment, not that she had any on her anyway. Forcing herself to suppress the nausea and light-headedness she felt she rose to her feet again.

Opening the paper she knew Mac had joined her, standing just behind her, and was curious as to her findings. It was difficult to read in the available light, but she squinted hard. "6pm, E 42nd Street, Library, Diversion, big bang."

"E 42nd Street, that's the UN," he commented, his breath skimming across her neck; now that her hair was tied up with an elastic she had dug from her pocket, her skin was exposed and it caused a shiver through her.

Through the fog in her mind Stella struggled to remember, something was trying to trigger a memory, but it was dancing just beyond her consciousness. _We gotta hurry - don't want to miss the big bang, _she could hear the words, but she couldn't place them in context. Maybe it wasn't important and her mind in its frazzled state was playing tricks on her. She felt another shiver run through her body as the cold gust of wind rattled a few more glass panes in the crumbling building. The creaking of the metal walkway drew her attention as she looked round. She must have stared at it for longer than she thought as Mac's voice drew her attention back.

"Stella? Are you alright?"

She turned to him, still frowning. "I'm fine Mac, I just thought I remembered something, but my mind must be playing tricks on me."

"It's an easy thing to happen in a place like this," he answered wiping several drips of water from his face as the rain began again and started falling on them from the hole above their heads. The creaking walkway drew Stella's attention again and she looked up.

For a moment she was back up there listening to two men as they carried Mac away, _We gotta hurry - don't want to miss the big bang._ She must have gasped at the recollection, as she felt Mac's hand on her arm.

"Stella? Are you sure you're okay? What's got you spooked?"

She turned to him again, her voice strained, her head pounding. "I _do_ remember, there were two guys here, we were up there for a while and when they moved you I'd just regained consciousness, they talked about a big bang. That's where they were going when they left us."

"Usually a big bang means an explosion of some kind," Mac commented matter of factly, but Stella could see his mind was considering the possibilities in the way he muscles in his face tensed. Or at least, in the dim light, that's what she thought she could see. "And what would be bigger than a bang at the UN this week?"

As she looked up at Mac, his eyes met hers. "What time is it now?"

He glanced at his watch, shaking his arm a little and wiping the water from the face he peered at it intently. Even with the little light it provided, Stella was grateful for the illumination of the dial.

"Almost 8," he replied and their gaze remained locked, both of them analysing the information in unspoken communication with each other.

Stella felt a further chill at the realisation they came to. "Then whatever these guys are plannning is already underway, but 'diversion' seems like it's only the appetiser, we need to get over there Mac. Somehow we need to warn them ..." She raised a concerned look to him as an intense spate of creaking echoed around them and another panel gave way at the other end of the building. The whole thing sounding far more eerie as darkness quickly surrounded them, and although she was not easily spooked, her nerves felt fragile after everything they had suffered. Mac was looking away from her now, scanning the dilapidation, and then his gaze returned to her. His appearance in the gloom suddenly scared her; he looked pale and ill, and she was becoming increasingly concerned about the wound in his arm. Before she could say anything though, he took hold of her arm and pulled her forwards.

"Before we do anything, we need to get out of here before this all comes down on top of us," he said urgently. They turned towards the open panel in the side as fast as they could, Stella's heels giving her little stability on the wet, slippery and uneven ground causing her to hang on to Mac's arm as they stumbled towards an exit.

* * *

Lindsay was sitting with her head in her hands while she waited for Adam to tap into the UN CCTV to try and view the Library. It had been a long day already and it wasn't over yet. If someone had told her a day ago that she would be pretty much running the lab, she'd have laughed in their face, now however it was all too real. Mac and Stella had been missing for nearly twelve hours, anything could have happened to them. Anything.

No, she couldn't think like that, she refused to. They would be okay. They _had_ to be.

The growing sound of rustling papers alerted her to another presence in the room and she rubbed her eyes and looked up. Glancing at Adam, who was in deep concentration with his task, she turned her attention to the ME who had appeared beside her.

"Sid, what are you still doing here? I thought you'd gone home," she asked turning her head again this time to confirm the time by the clock on the wall.

"I was, but then decided I'd only annoy my wife while I paced up and down waiting for news so I was finishing some reports. There's one you might be interested in. Didn't think anything of it earlier, but I was just loading the details in the database when something came up." He held out the file he was holding and she took it slowly, rubbing her eyes again with one hand as she did so.

Her eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. "When is it news that a junkie ODs, Sid?" she asked looking up from the report after a moment.

"Normally I'd say never, but that's not a word you should use in my line of work. He came in around lunch time, found in an alley near Port Authority. His prints pulled a case to case hit .... I thought you should know."

Sid turned to leave as Lindsay studied the file some more. "Wait, Sid, you're a genius!" she jumped up and crossed the room towards him. "How long has he been dead?"

"Early this morning, my guess is he used something a little purer than what he was used to. It'll do it every time, they take their normal shot, but the purity works like it's a bigger dose. I'm waiting for the full tox report, but my guess is whatever he shot up with was pretty potent stuff. I've called the lab and told them you need the results asap." He smiled briefly at her, but his arms were folded across his chest, and there was worry fixed in his features.

"Thanks Sid," Lindsay managed a weak smile in return. "It's a shame Scagnetti's boys didn't get him earlier, he could have given us a few answers. Did he have anything on him?"

Sid scratched his arm and neck and a rueful look crossed his face. "Apart from small, wingless bloodsucking insects of the order Siphonaptera?"

She scrunched her nose at his explanation.

"The order of Siphonaptera?" A third voice queried and they turned to see Adam look up from the computer he had been working on. "Seriously? Never heard anyone refer to them like that before."

Lindsay was aware that her look between the two of them showed her confusion, maybe she was just tired, but it seemed they were making no sense. Sid smiled at her kindly as he scratched his arm again and offered a less technical answer. "Fleas ... his personal effects are being fumigated as we speak, I'll let you know when they're free of jumping parasites."

As Sid turned to leave, Adam shrieked at the computer then muttered inaudibly for a moment. With a glance at each other, Sid and Lindsay edged towards him.

"I got a message from dispatch, the team picking up that junkie haven't found him, but his apartment is pretty clean, doesn't look like he's been around for days - no trash, no food in the fridge or anything. They're sealing it off anyway, but don't think we'll find much," Adam stopped for a breath and the others smiled at him. "Well I guess they didn't find him because he's cooling his heels in one of Sid's drawers."

Lindsay noted the amused smirk Sid gave Adam at the description of their suspect's current resting place, before he turned to her. "Lindsay you realise that if he's dead and has anything to do with what's happening at the UN it's unlikely anyone will go back to the apartment."

"The note!" she gasped, barely audible as she strangled the sudden fear which had risen in her. "Mac and Stella! What if it's all connected?" Things began to click together rapidly in her mind as the pieces of evidence began to form into an answer." She stared wildly at the other two and her voice came out as a croak. "We've been working this as two separate cases, but what if it's all part of the plan? Keep Mac and Stella out of the way, it makes it harder for us to respond to any threat because our resources are diverted looking for them!"

Sid looked thoughtful as he pushed his glasses back. "You know you could be right, but a long term junkie wouldn't have the smarts for all of this," he commented and Lindsay felt her heart sink.

"Which means he was expendable, he'd served his purpose and whoever is doing all this... Man, wait until we get our hands on them," Adam mused and then spun back on his chair to the computer.

Lindsay looked at her colleagues a deeper fear settling in her already queasy stomach. "But they're not finished, they're playing with us, depleting our resources, distracting us...

This is all a diversion, we're missing something... they wouldn't go to these lengths if they weren't planning something big and we need to find out what that is!"

A brief silence enveloped them, one of foreboding and more than a little touch of despair, the only sound was Adam's fingers tapping on the keys of the computer.

"I'm in!" he almost shouted suddenly, making her heart race again as she looked over his shoulder at the image on the screen, Sid peering over hers. They could make out a number of figures lined up against the wall below the window as well as a lone figure apparently tied to a chair and two further figures set slightly apart from the others. Lindsay creased her forehead in concentration as she scanned the image. The two figures appeared a little agitated, constantly shifting and shuffling, but never moving away from each other. The scanning software refreshed the screen giving them a clearer image.

"Isn't that Detective Flack?" asked Sid pointing at the same two figures.

"Yeah, but who's with him?" Lindsay wondered as she studied the images for as much information as they could give her.

She watched as Sid adjusted his glasses and peered at the screen again. "I couldn't say for certain, but..."

"Natalia Hunt," Adam announced confidently, then blushed when the others turned on him with shocked expressions. "What? I met her - she brought Mac the note..."  
Something on the screen caught his attention and he turned back to the computer and enlarged the image. "Oh my, that can't be good," he commented, drawing the others attention to what he had seen. "The bad guys must really have a death wish, handcuffing those two together after what I've heard the last few days."

The all watched the replay - Flack pulled his left arm up to gesticulate, quite clearly yanking Natalia's arm with him and earning himself a swat on the arm as she obviously protested. Lindsay recalled then the conversation and conflict Hawkes and she had with Flack down at the docks over their third victim and she winced involuntarily.

"I'm not sure who'll be dead first, looking at that, I'd say our English Rose is not amused," Sid muttered dryly. "Detective Flack had better be careful."

"No one's going to die, not if I can help it," Lindsay said firmly, drawing herself and her authority back together. "Keep going Adam, anything else you can pull off the CCTV, I want to see it."

"You got it," his fingers flew over the keyboard as he busied himself, and with an approving look, Sid glided out of the room.

Left to her thoughts for a moment, Lindsay continued to create connections, and gradually, answers began to form in her mind.

* * *

Natalia swatted his arm and yanked it back towards her to make her shoulder more comfortable. Angry and sore as she was, she was determined to make the best she could out of a bad and getting worse situation. "What the hell is your problem, detective?"

He glared at her, but not before she saw a measure of surprise in his eyes at her words. "You..."

She refused to let him get any further. Being handcuffed to the man only made it easier for her to tell him exactly what she thought of him. "_I'm_ not the bloody enemy here, as much as you think I am," she hissed and nodded violently towards their captors. "They are, and we should be doing something to get out of here."

Flack's expression became scornful. "Yeah? And how do you suggest we do that? We're not exactly free to do anything, and I'm not armed, they took my weapon remember."

"Talk to them, negotiate, after all aren't you the one with hostage negotiation experience?" He raised his eyes at her and she sighed before explaining. "I've lived here nearly 3 years, I watch the news - I saw the press conference you led after that drugs raid..." another memory surfaced and she seized it to push her point further. "And now that I think about it, someone who worked in the same building as me was in the bank last year when that Joe person held it up and you negotiated with him."

It came back to her then as she studied his face; the whole of her team had been gripped by the story as it broke on the news, knowing that someone they knew, even if it was only by sight, was involved. Natalia also remembered suddenly how struck she had been by the composure of all the police involved, particularly the tall blue-eyed Detective who was now at her side.

Flack grunted before he answered her. "Yeah, but I'm usually on the other side of the door."

This was going to be harder than she had realised, but she continued to push him. At least the misery that had almost overwhelmed him when their captors had taunted him with the deaths of Mac Taylor and Stella Bonasera, who she had realised after the incident at the bar, were closer than simply colleagues to Detective Flack. Though she had met them both only briefly, they had made an impression on her; Mac for his control of a situation and his empathy for the man beside her, and Stella for her no-nonsense attitude tempered with compassion. All she could hope was that the men holding herself and Flack were lying about their fate.

Shifting herself as well as she could, Natalia turned to face him, her knees pressed against his as she tried to find a comfortable position. "Listen, I know I don't know you, and maybe I haven't got any right to say this, but you are doing a great impression right now of a man who's given up..."

"Given up? What the hell?" Flack spluttered, his eyebrows raising incredulously.

She held her hand up to him. "Just shut up for a minute, okay? So maybe we've only met a few weeks ago properly, but from what I've seen of you, you really don't seem the type to give up and start weeping and wailing. The man I saw last year in charge of negotiating certainly wasn't."

"Yeah, last year, a lot's changed since then. Things you have no idea about, no idea at all, so don't even dare try and claim to know what I'm like, 'cause I'm telling you, you have _no_ idea and _no_ right to talk to me like that!" Flack hissed, minute flecks of saliva flying from his mouth with the vehemence of his words.

Natalia stuck stoically to her argument though. "Same as _you_ have no right to be so bloody rude to me every time we've met! Same as you had no right to accuse me of wanting to take your case, I mean honestly, how pathetic would I be if that was what I really wanted? Please." Her hands had curled into fists and she could feel her heart thudding.

Flack stared at her, suddenly at a loss for words, breathing deeply through his nostrils. She turned away, pulling his arm just enough to remind him that they were attached; that his actions affected her, and vice versa.

"Look, I'm not trying to be difficult here, Detective. If it's any help to you at all, I think they are lying," she continued in the same quietly controlled voice she had used to begin with. "I don't think your friends are dead, I think they're taunting you to get a reaction... which they certainly got. Okay, so you're angry, upset, that's fine, but use it instead of being beaten by it." As she shifted again, the cuff pressed down on the bones of her wrist and she couldn't stop a grimace of pain.

In a hesitant gesture, he touched her wrist. "I hurt you before..."

"Yes you did," she couldn't stop herself snapping, and then softened at the guilt that crossed his face. "It wasn't that bad, I'll just be a bit stiff I think."

"I'm sorry," he said gruffly. "Shouldn't have reacted like that, not with you attached like that anyhow."

"It was an understandable reaction. What else could you have done? I'd have done the same, had it been friends of mine... They're good friends of yours? Mac and Stella?"

It was a conscious decision to keep her discussion in the present tense, not to give any further fuel to the possibility that the two detectives were, as they had been told, dead.

Flack nodded and leaned his head back against the wall. "Yeah, yeah they are. Known them both a long time, almost as long as they've known each other."

"And they're just friends themselves?" she asked curiously, having noted that they had arrived together that evening when she had called Mac to come and help Flack home from the bar.

A short bark of a laugh escaped his lips. "Believe me, that's the $64,000 question. Let's just say they have a complicated relationship that no one's quite been able to figure out yet, least of all them."

She smiled, intrigued. "Sounds interesting,"

He grunted, darkness once more descending over his face. "They'd better be..."

"They'll be all right, Detective." Unsure if it was the right thing to do, but taking the chance anyway, Natalia laid her hand briefly on his knee, patting it gently before she withdrew it.

Pausing for a moment, with his eyes still on her, he then cleared his throat. "Listen, seeing as we've managed to have a couple of sentences of civil conversation here, maybe if you drop the 'Detective'. Just Flack is good enough for me."

"_Just_ Flack?" Natalia raised her eyebrows. "So you don't have a first name?" She hoped she had made the right judgment with the hint of teasing as he glared at her for a moment, but then his mouth relaxed.

"It's Don, Donald Flack Junior if you want the whole mouthful. But just call me Flack."

"Then it's Natalia, rather than Ms Hunt, if we're going to be civil to each other," she said, and gave him a small smile. "I'd shake your hand, but, you know, it's a bit awkward at the moment..." she raised their wrists, and a hint of something other than the melancholy which had surrounded him appeared in his face. "So we'll save it for when we get out of here."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, and you can be damn sure we are going to get out of here," then his eyes dimmed and his fist clenched. "And if those bastards are telling the truth and anything, _anything's_ happened to Mac and Stel, they're going to pay hell for it!"

Natalia, looking at the blood that was rising to his face, had not the shadow of a doubt that they would.

* * *

_A small cliffie maybe? We hope you liked the chapter, sorry it took a bit longer to post – we got a bit stuck! Please review, it really helps the inspiration. Thanks, Lily and Forest x_


	18. Whatever it takes

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! _

_A/N2: Thanks to Rebeck & Juliette Tomassino (chapter 10) for your reviews. Thank you for the additional comments too. We hope you all enjoy this offering._

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**Chapter 18**** - Whatever it takes****  
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Day: 12

Opening Scene: Warehouse somewhere in New York

Time of Day: Evening

Date: Late September

UN Activity: 2 days before the General Debate with Heads of Government

* * *

As they stumbled towards the opening, helping each other along, the ground beneath them began to rumble and the creaking becoming more intense as several more glass panels shattered behind them. Mac and Stella glanced at each other their expressions conveying the fear they had about the building; collapse now seemed inevitable, and imminent. As they pressed on towards the barely visible opening, masonry and ironwork clattered on the metal roof above them, then it split the panels and crashed loudly across the path bringing them to a halt. Turning to find another route, frantic now and clutching each others arms, their attention was caught by the increased scraping and screeching of the metal beams forming the framework of the building and then before their eyes the metal walkway where they had first been placed buckled as one of the overhead beams broke its anchor and crashed down. Unable to tear their eyes from the sight, they watched as the walkway, no match for the weight of the object, proceeded to teeter and swing for a few seconds before everything crashed before them, sending a muddy spray of water in every direction along with small shards of metal. Stella pulled Mac backwards as something flew in their direction but thankfully landed several feet away, crashing and bouncing away into the darkness.

Breathing hard and looking around in the eerie silence which followed, they couldn't make out an alternative safe exit in the gloom which had sunk over the sagging building. They glanced at the side opening about 20 feet from them which had been their first option, debris still clattered in a growing heap outside, and realised it was no longer an option. Their path was blocked. They were trapped. Mac looked at Stella, certain her expression matched his own as they both reached the same conclusion and stared at each other, desperately trying to find an answer before being distracted by further creaking and screeching from the centre of the building.

Straining his eyes in the near total darkness, Mac scanned every inch of the building, before spotting a chink of light in the far corner. But it was a very far corner, and above them, the ceiling was beginning to bulge and buckle. "Mac! This whole place is coming down!" Stella yelled urgently as the sound grew and the rumble under their feet began again. It decided him in a second.

"We're not staying to watch it happen, come on!" he barked and seized her arm.  
Forcefully and quickly, he pulled her towards their only possible escape. As they ran and skidded across the floor, dodging falling pieces of glass and metal, the sound of the structure's slow death and disintegration roared in his ears.

There was an air-shaking concussion of collapsing masonry behind them, and as they neared their exit, Mac grabbed hold of Stella, hauling her in front of him before he shoved her clear of the falling masonry. Something skimmed past his back as he leaped after her through the opening and the building buckled and crashed around them.

------

Danny and Hawkes joined Scagnetti and the SWAT team in the foyer of the Dag Hammerskjold Library, while on the opposite side of the room Reed was currently distracted by one of the detective's team giving him a cup of coffee. Seeing that gave Danny no small measure of relief, the young man's distress at Mac's disappearance had thrown him, and brought his own emotions to the surface, and that was something he did not want to be thinking about at the moment. Instead, he was concentrating now on the task at hand, what he knew he could do.

"Scagnetti, you got anything new?" He and Hawkes stopped by a table which had been set up and held a phone and several blue prints for the building.

"Nothing yet, we've had no contact and been unable to get anything from anyone," Scagnetti confessed, his tired tone reflecting the stress of the situation and the hours he'd already put in that day.

"What about CCTV?" asked Hawkes glancing around them at the cameras keeping eyes on the foyer. "The UN give you access?"

"They tried, but someone hacked the signal and all we got is static. It's being jammed." Scagnetti answered despondently. "Not that there's much they'd tell us anyway, there's limited cover in there," he told them nodding at the large carved doors. "One above the door looking at the main desk and a couple on each level."

"So we have no idea what the hell is going on in there?" Danny snapped in frustration, while running his hand up the back of his head then grimacing as the movement pulled on his cracked ribs.

Hawkes' phone rang and he glanced at the caller ID as he pulled it from his belt. "It's the lab, maybe they got something," He pressed a couple of buttons and held it out between them. "You got Hawkes, Danny and Scagnetti on speaker."

_"O-K,"_ Adam's slightly nervous voice came on the line. _"We got pictures, took ages 'cause someone jammed the signal, but I found it and managed to piggy back onto it."_

"Yeah, okay, good work Adam, what can you see?" Danny pressed him anxiously, aware that he was rocking on the balls of his feet, but unable to stop himself.

_"That Morse code message may have been wrong, we can make out four bad guys all with hand guns as far as we can tell, they're sticking pretty close to the back wall near the entrance, almost out of camera range, which is why we can't be sure how many bad guys there are, hostages are on the opposite side under the windows. Looks like about 12 of them. Security guard is tied to a chair at the far end of the room-"_

"What about Flack?" Danny jumped in, unable to wait any longer for Adam to explain.

_"He seems OK, looks like he's cuffed to Natalia Hunt from the British Delegation. They're being kept apart from the other hostages and the guard. Lindsay and I are bringing down some extra kit we'll see you in 20 minutes. Then you'll be able to see for yourself."_

"Alright, thanks Adam. Any news on Mac and Stella?" Hawkes's tone was apparently the only thing showing his concern for his colleagues as Danny saw him trying to remain focused.

_"Not yet guys, I'm sorry. We got nothing from their weapons or badges. Looks like the weather's against us, but we got a hunch, well Lindsay has, but she won't say until we get there so, I gotta go._

The phone clicked, Hawkes cancelled his end of the call and glanced at the looks on the others faces. "No news is good news, right?" he said hopefully. "And if Lindsay's got a hunch, you know, maybe?"

Danny threw him a sympathetic look, but held onto the glimmer of hope that his wife's hunch would once again prove to be helpful to them. He trusted her instincts.

Then he turned to the other Detective. "So Scagnetti, what's the plan here?" He was keen for some sort of action after the events of the day which seemed to want to hamper them at every turn.

The man sighed. "We wait a bit, see if we get any intel. or any demands, seems like everything is quiet in there, so no one is in any danger right now. We try and go in, could end up a bad move and if they know Flack is a cop, which if he's cuffed to someone they probably do, he'll be the first one they aim for. And if your guy is right about the identity of the woman with him, and she gets hit, then we're talking a major diplomatic incident ... we can't risk it."

"They've not made any demands?" Hawkes asked, voicing a question Danny had been wanting to ask.

"Nothing, it's like they're waiting for something," Scagnetti told them.

"What if this isn't part of the plan?" Hawkes said suddenly, looking at each of them in turn.

"What are you talking about Doc?" asked Danny giving him a quizzical look.

"Maybe I'm making a lot of assumptions here, but why here and why now? The main event doesn't take place for two days, they can't expect to keep everyone in there with no intervention until then. What if this is a diversion? What if something else is going down and this is a trap set to distract us?"

Danny rubbed his ribs, which were beginning to ache and demand his attention. "If it is, Doc, we just walked right into it."

------

Flack felt Natalia shift again at his side and glanced at her as she raised her right arm, slid her hand under her jacket and rubbed her left shoulder. A twinge of guilt ran through him. She was obviously in some discomfort from his actions earlier even if she had brushed him off about it when they finally talked. It had been a while since they had called a truce, he estimated another half hour or so had passed, and silence had falllen between them had been no more movement as yet from their captors, however, he wasn't sure to take this as a good or a bad thing.

So in the interim, he watched Natalia out of the corner of his eye for a moment. She had her head tipped back against the wall and her eyes closed. Her fingers were still trying to massage her shoulder. He was transfixed for a moment, watching her and maybe for the first time he really looked at her, taking in the details of her appearance. She was wearing a light grey business pant suit with a white blouse. A wristwatch with a gold coloured strap had previously adorned her left wrist, before she removed it and dropped it in a pocket to stop it from rubbing against the cuff keeping her attached to him. Her remaining jewellery was all gold, a simple chain and cross hung around her neck, delicate hooped earrings hung from her ears and a small gold chain graced her right wrist. Nothing pretentious or eye catching. In his mind, the business woman persona mixed with the one from their first meeting where she was clad in black leather and riding a motorcycle; he couldn't help release a chuckle at the two images and he wondered what Jess would make of her split personality, then the image of Jess on the floor of the diner wavered before his eyes and his short-lived amusement died on his lips.

He'd obviously made more noise than he thought as she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Are you alright Detective?"

"Fine," he choked. "You?"

She gave him a wry smile. "No offence, but I'll feel better when we get these cuffs off."

"Your shoulder alright?" he asked nodding at the way she was still trying to massage it.

"Feels like it's seized up. I really need to get some proper movement in it."

"At the risk of upsetting your husband, I could try something."

"For a detective you're a little slow, I'm not married." She held up her left arm, pulling his with her and she waggled her fingers in his face. He'd noticed the rest of her jewellery so he really should have noticed that she only wore a simple dress ring on her right hand, but what made itself more evident was the groan she suppressed as she moved her arm. He frowned as she continued. "Okay, right now I'd agree to practically anything, married or not if I could just get rid of the ache in my shoulder."

Flack nodded, then leaning over her, he took hold of her right arm with his right hand and slowly pulled it away from her shoulder and rested it in her lap.

"Ms- Natalia, this isn't going to be easy seeing as I'm left handed, but I'm prepared to give it a shot if you are."

He waited for her to nod at him and then indicated that she should turn around a little with her back to him. For a moment it pulled both their arms to awkward angles before he lifted his arm over her head and took her left hand in his resting them both on her right shoulder, pulling them closer in the process. He left just enough room between them to slide his right hand on to her shoulder, over her jacket to try and manipulate her muscles.

"I don't know if this will work," he said hesitantly, feeling his body begin to heat at the contact.

"Actually it feels better already, maybe it's just enough to hold it in a different position for a while."

Silence fell between them for a moment or two, but he continued to do what he could to ease the tension in her shoulder.

"So you're not married, what do you do when you're not working?"

He almost rubbed noses with her as she spun her head to look at him and he couldn't suppress a small grin which crossed his face when she turned away again quickly before speaking. "Of all the things to ask... we're stuck here trying to be civil to each other and you ask what I do when I'm not working? Shouldn't we be trying to talk to them and doing something about getting out of here, instead of you asking me stupid questions?"

"If you don't want to answer-" he huffed, bristling a little.

"I never said that, it's just ... Okay, it's just weird. This whole situation. We've been sitting here for hours and they've pretty much stayed over their side of the room, doesn't that strike you as a little odd? Don't these guys usually waltz in and start making demands. We've not seen them lift one phone or appear to have any contact with anyone else. It's like they're waiting for something..." she paused for a moment before continuing. "Of course I'm not the expert..."

Flack chuckled, letting his hand slip from her shoulder, but still held her left one resting across her. "You're doing pretty good so far, you absolutely sure you're not trying to take over my job?"

"Why would I want to do that? We've been through this anyhow," she answered and he wondered if he detected a hint of a challenge in her voice. He wished he could see her face.

"Oh I don't know, maybe because you're thinking the same thing I am."

"... You sure you want to follow through this conversation? Isn't that what got you all pissed off at me in the first place?"

He had to agree that she was right, and right now having someone to talk to was a hell of a lot better than having her yell at him. Suddenly, Flack felt very exposed as he realised he was still sitting with his arm around her. Okay so it was practical - it was more comfortable for her shoulder, but it made him think about Jess again. He scrubbed his free hand across his chin as he tried to dispel the battle his brain was having over memories of his girlfriend; the woman he had loved and lost.

"Detective? Are you okay?"

He realised he must have been day dreaming for a while when he heard her speak again. He mustered up as jovial an answer as he could manage. "Hey, thought I told you it was Flack?"

"Sorry, habit, I'm used to observing formalities... you didn't answer my question though."

Flack allowed himself a grin at her persistence. "I could think of a few criminals you could break in interrogation, of course there's others that would eat you alive."

"You think? What you've seen of me Detective is only the tip of the iceberg, you think I'm pissed off at you? Wait until you get to dealing with some of the stuff I've seen, then you'll really get to know me," her voice changed and he detected a trace of sorrow. "But that's not on your agenda is it? I'm just the diplomat getting in your way and messing with your case... Don't worry I don't expect you to like me, but honestly, I'm glad you're actually talking to me instead of mouthing off all the time."

"It wasn't _all_ the time!" he had to protest at that.

"Maybe not from where you are, but you barely had a civil word to say to me that night Michael's body was found. You terrified Roger all for no good reason, I know my job, I know its limitations in police investigations." He felt her tense a little in the pause before she continued. "I saw the way you let me look at the scene, that you barely looked at the place, and the blood turned you right off... Forgive me for asking but how does a homicide detective do his job if he can't stand the sight of blood?"

Flack shuffled a little on the spot and stretched his legs out. No one had asked him that question directly, but he knew they'd noticed, he had seen the looks passed between his team as well as the CSIs; looks that varied between sympathy, scorn and concern. But he had just kept going and hoped that he could do it without seeing Jess laying on the floor of the diner in a pool of blood every time he saw a bloody crime scene.

He felt her shift at his side and linking their fingers she lifted his arm from around her and turned towards him. "I'm sorry if-"

He didn't need her apologies, he didn't need any false sympathy and he cut her off brusquely, loosing his fingers from hers. "It's fine..." he cleared his throat and grasped at another subject before she could probe any further into wounds that were too raw. "Were you and Michael close?"

Natalia sighed. "We've been friends a long time, we've worked together before ... before... do you have any idea who's responsible?" He watched the tears pool in her eyes as she spoke, realising she was more upset than she let on, but then he couldn't blame her for that, he'd kept things pretty quiet himself over Jess.

"No, but we will," his voice softened. "Everyone from the mayor down wants answers and even if _they_ didn't _you_ need answers for his family, it's our job to give you that." He wanted her to feel reassured, to know that they would solve her friend's murder.

"Thank you," he barely heard her whisper as she turned away from him a little to settle herself back against the wall, her eyes on their captors still hovering by the door. "I hope you find the answers you're looking for as well."

Images of those missing swum in front of his eyes again, misted red with his anger and the blood that had been lost.

"Oh I'll find them," he said, his voice hardened to iron and his gaze swivelling to the men by the door. "I'll find them whatever it takes."

------

Mac coughed hard, clearing the dust from his throat as he realised, somewhat to his surprise, that he was still alive. He felt something shift below him and opened his eyes, blinking to relieve the pain of grit scratching them. Then he remembered as he felt a body beneath him - Stella! He pushed himself upright and rolled to the side, groaning at the pain stabbing right through his arm, but horrified to find himself in such a similar situation to only a few hours before when he had first woken.

But only a second later, he was relieved to hear Stella cough beside him and then lift her head, debris tumbling out of her curls as she did so. Lying still for a moment and regaining his bearings, Mac realised that he wasn't sure how long they had blacked out for this time, only that that they were outside and on some kind of ledge close to the water line.

They must have gone off the end of the pier when they left the warehouse. Or rather when they had leaped for their lives out of it. He shuddered at the memory of it, and it crashed into him just how close they had come to being buried alive beneath several tons of masonry.

The rain was an almost welcome sensation that he was alive, even though it had soaked through his already wet clothes and he could tell from feeling Stella pressed against him that they were both shivering.

But he had to look at his arm, the pain was sending fireworks through the whole of his right side. He began to struggle out of his jacket as he felt Stella shift at his side and her hands helped him.

"Promise me you won't ever push me like that again," she mumbled, her lips close to his ear as she eased the sleeve from his injured arm.

"Only to save your life," he heard himself mumble back, a smile forming on his numbed lips.

Apart from the rain sploshing around them there was an eerie silence; no creaking metal, no rumble of falling masonry or shattering of glass. He dared to stretch his neck up and glance over the wall where they had fallen from. In the fast failing light, he could just make out that most of the area was covered in debris, where there had once been a warehouse; only one end of the building remained as far as he could tell in the limited light they gained from the streetlights at the opposite end of the lot. They had obviously been out long enough for the dust to settle. He rested his hand on the top of the wall and pressed down to drag himself back onto the pier, but the pain in his arm caused him to lose his grip and he sank back down to his knees as he used his free hand to support his injured arm.

"Mac, you're hurt," he noted the concern in her voice.

"Nothing serious, just a gash from earlier. The bruising is coming out and letting me know about it now though," he muttered through gritted teeth. It was perhaps a little worse than he let on, but their situation was bad enough and he didn't want her to worry any more.

"Let me see." It was clear from that she had seen right through his attempt though, and he almost chuckled. Stella was firm as she took his arm and he felt her fingers gently prodding the wound. He grunted with each press, knowing she couldn't really see much.

"Doesn't feel good Mac, we need to bandage it," was her verdict, and then he felt his eyebrows raise as he made out that she was reaching to remove her own jacket. Mac laid his good hand on her arm.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to rip my shirt up and make you a bandage," she replied like it was obvious. Mac felt himself blush at the thought of Stella shirtless and his fingers tightened around her arm, hoping she didn't know the thoughts she was giving him.

"I've got a handkerchief in my pocket, use that," he told her softly.

She looked into his eyes, he couldn't make out what she was searching for in the darkness, but he was aware of her gaze. Then he felt the move of her arm towards his jacket now crumpled at the side of them. "You're right, it's probably cleaner anyway."

Mac let his mind wander as he leaned against the wall of the pier and Stella tended to his arm, binding it carefully with the handkerchief. He could still feel the pounding in his head and the echoes of the building collapsing around them, and his terror that they would be killed, that Stella would be killed...

He tried to piece together everything that had happened, but the harder he thought the worse the pounding got.

He was brought back to the present moment when he felt her hand against his cheek. "Mac? You okay? Talk to me." He could hear the fear in her voice and it dragged him back to full awareness.

"I'm fine Stella, just trying to work out what happened."

"Think that's pretty obvious, some scumbags thought they could get us out of their way, but I got news for them, now we've escaped their attempt to kill us, I'm going after them and then they'll wonder who they messed with," she growled.

Mac smiled at her in the dark; she certainly appeared to be more with it than he was at the present, but he needed to be sure. "Are you hurt?"

She sighed and he felt her slump a little at his side. "I've got a raging headache, I'm freezing cold and I feel like several tons of building just fell on me, but I'm alive..." Then her voice strengthened. "Mac, give me your belt."

It was forceful and demanding, Mac was surprised at the order and his eyebrows flew up.

"Stella?"

"It's a simple thing Mac, your belt. I need it to make a sling, you shouldn't be using that arm until you get it checked out." Mac grunted, trying to hide the laugh which almost gave away the first thought that had gone through his mind.

He laid his hand on her arm and kept his voice serious. "You are not having my belt, not at this moment in time. My arm can manage fine with the bandage you've put on it. A sling will only hamper my movement, and right now, if we're going to get out of here and to the UN, we need as much movement as we can manage."

"I still say you ought to keep it still," she said disapprovingly. "However, if you don't want to listen to good advice..."

"Because you always do of course," Mac couldn't resist the jibe, judging that she would not take offence.

Stella chose to ignore him, however, as he heard her shift about beside him and then scramble to her feet.

"Then at least give me your hand so I can help you up."

The smile in her voice was unmistakable and he returned it, knowing somehow she would know it was there as he grasped her proffered hand. "Now that I'm happy to do."

She hauled him to his feet and together, by dint of much scrambling and knocks to already bruised bodies, they got themselves back to solid ground. They stood together, leaning in to each others shoulders as they stood and surveyed what they could see under the streetlights. It was a scene of devastation and for a minute, Mac felt his hope draining away, until Stella turned to him and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

"All right, let's go find our way to the UN," she said and even though her voice was a little too bright, it revived his determination as they moved forward together.

* * *

_A small cliffie in the middle this time, we hope you liked the chapter, sorry it took a bit longer to post – real life has interrupted the flow in the last week! Please review, it really helps the inspiration. Thanks, Lily and Forest x_


	19. Driving Forwards

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! _

_Thank you to _Didi_ and _Rebeck _for your reviews – much appreciated! Thanks also to _afrozenheart412 _and_ Ballettmaus_ for further thoughts and discussion_

**Chapter 19 - Driving Forwards**

Day: 12

Opening Scene: UN Library

Time of Day: About 10 pm

Date: Late September

UN Activity: 2 days before the General Debate with Heads of Government

* * *

Dirk stood up from where he had been sitting for the last hour and cast another eye over their hostages. No one had really moved, the place was pretty quiet, which was not something he was going to complain about: an easy life was a happy life, as far as he was concerned. He could see the cop and the girl talking, noting that they seemed more civil to each other and he wondered what their deal was. The first couple of hours had seen them face off each other more than once and he'd wondered at one point if they would get physical with each other going by the venom they were throwing around. He grinned; the speculation had kept him and his cohorts amused for a while. The rest of the hostages had provided very little in the way of entertainment and were still grouped together whilst the security guard was still secured to a chair away from the rest.

He glanced at Ali who was checking his watch. "Is it time yet? Feel like I've been camped here all day."

"Another couple of hours unless she moves up the plan, I'm surprised they haven't tried to bust down the door." He glanced at the door as he said that, and Dirk pulled a face at him.

"Wouldn't do that without negotiating first and we haven't been negotiating. They'll probably want to talk to their buddy first when we do pick up," he responded and nodded in the Detective's direction.

"Never did figure out what he's doing here," Ali frowned casting a glance in the man's direction.

Dirk rolled his eyes at his companion's slowness in thinking. "Wake up Ali, he's probably here to go over the security detail for some honcho from some tin pot state."

"England ain't no tin pot state."

He smirked; many years ago he had dated, briefly, an English girl. A woman who had, as he saw it, an inflated sense of her home country's, and her own importance. "Sure it ain't. Whatever though, he's not a problem right now, you cuffed him good, he's gonna have to think twice about going Rambo on us with her in the mix. She gets shot, there'll be a major diplomatic incident..." Then another important thought crossed his mind, and his stomach. "Hey, you got anything to eat? I'm starving."

Ali grinned. "Wondered when you were going to ask that. Now you'll be glad we lugged that extra bag," he turned to one of the other captors, "Tariq, open the bag, give Dirk some sustenance before he starts bitching about wanting pizza, giving them an excuse to spy on us." he instructed while nodding his head in the direction of the door, indicating he was talking about the police he was certain would be on the other side. Dirk wondered then if it would take much to turn that certainty into paranoia.

Tariq rummaged in the bag for a few minutes and then tossed a wrapped package to Dirk, who almost dropped it, but he wasted no time in opening it up and smelling the contents. His eyebrows raised then as he admitted his admiration. "Have to say Ali, you got taste, this smells great. We got anything for them?" he asked taking a bite while looking at their hostages.

"Nah, few extra bottles of water, no food, they can afford to go hungry for a few hours, besides, why waste it if they're not going to need it?"

Dirk's eyes narrowed as he scanned the people huddled under the window and pondered his cohort's words. "You got a point, my friend. Keep 'em subdued, keep 'em under control."

Ali nodded. "My thinking exactly. Best way to deal with captives in this kind of situation."

At his words, the food in Dirk's mouth suddenly dried and lost some of its taste as he remembered their other captives. The ones they had left to die in the warehouse. Swallowing hurriedly, the food almost stuck in his throat and he grimaced as his conscience turned his stomach, imagining the now lifeless bodies of the two Detectives, most likely underwater, maybe even buried under the fallen building.

But what could he have done? It wasn't his fault. They had only done what they had to. Resolutely, he tore another bite of the food and pushed the image of their victims... no, their captives out of his mind. They had dealt with them, they were gone, he would not have to think about them any more.

* * *

The night air was damp now that the downpour had exhausted itself to a steady drizzle and their surroundings were filmy with the dusky orange of streetlights and shadows. There was no one in sight, not a soul but themselves.

Still shaken after their narrow escape from being crushed and smothered under the collapsed warehouse, Stella felt despair beginning to creep up on her, eroding the brightness that she had felt a short time ago. Now that rush of adrenaline following their escape was over, she was unable to ignore the pounding in her head and the disturbing sensation that she was on a ship being tossed about on an unruly ocean - when she tried taking a few steps forward, she did not seem to be able to quite find her balance and her vision was blurry to say the least. About that though, she was going to say nothing to Mac. There wasn't anything he could do about it, and she knew both of them were suffering with cold and still soaking wet. Mac's face still looked pallid, the cut on his temple very visible, and the handkerchief she had tied round his arm had a stain of blood on it.

They had set out optimistically, but it had not taken long for that optimism to die. They had no badges, phones or radios, and the only phone booth they had found was vandalised and useless. That discovery had been a blow, and now they stood a few yards from it and continued to stare helplessly about them. Stella felt her shoulders sagging, it seemed almost too much effort to speak or even move. Standing still would do no good though and rallying herself with an effort, she started to walk slowly and carefully along the sidewalk. With each step, her shoes squeaked from being waterlogged and they were rubbing her heels into no doubt a crop of blisters. Her clothes were sticking uncomfortably to every inch of skin and she could not stop shivering; it felt like there were wires of ice running through every nerve, sending convulsions through her every few seconds.

Becoming aware that Mac had followed and was now behind her, she stopped and turned.  
"How's your head?" he asked moving to stand beside her and looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"My head is fine," she insisted, but realising she had spoken with a little more force than she had intended, she met his eyes and was grateful for the understanding that passed between them. "Even so, I think we've got a few more important things to worry about here." Her voice began to rise then before she could stop it as the reality of their situation hit her. "What are we going to do, Mac? Those bastards even took our wallets! I haven't got a cent on me, and I doubt you have either."

Fury distorted her vision even further and she broke off to rub her hand across her eyes before crossing her arms in front of her chest, hoping that action would clamp down some of her shivers, protect her a little from the cold. All she wanted to do was crawl into a warm, dry bed and go to sleep for at least a week...

But she forced her eyes open wider, and watched as a frown crossed Mac's face.

"No, I haven't," he heaved an angry sigh and started to pace along the street. For a moment, she watched and then caught up to him.

"We have to get to the UN building, we have to!" she said, stopping him by standing in front of him. "Something's going down there, we've got to tell them what we know. Somehow..."

"I know that, but I'm trying to figure out how we get there," he gestured at the street. "Not a phone booth in sight, other than the one that's smashed."

"We'll figure it out," she said, hoping it was true. Whilst Mac shoved his hands in his pockets and stared out towards the docks, her gaze roved in the other direction, taking in the few cars that were parked along the street. Most of them were wrecked, but a few seemed to be intact. As she looked at them, gradually, an idea began to coalesce.  
"Okay, so no phones, but we do have a few vehicles..." she murmured.

Something of a grin curved her lips as the idea formed into something solid and she made her way over to a forlorn looking chevrolet that looked embarrassed to be seen beneath a streetlight. She rattled the door handle, finding it locked as expected. However, that was not necessarily an insurmountable barrier.

Mac jogged up behind her. "What have you got?" he asked and she turned to face him, biting her lip to stop a grin taking over.

"Now, Mac," she began, laying a hand on his arm. "Even though we've known each other a long time, there are some things you don't know about me, some things that might even shock you, so it's probably best you just face the other way for a few seconds..."

His face drew in a little and his eyes became suspicious, so Stella turned him round by his shoulders and then in a rapid movement, snapped the windshield wiper off the car. It broke away easily, flakes of rust showering over the hood, and she inserted it into the top of the door.

"Just takes a moment..." she muttered, concentrating, waiting for the sound she wanted to hear.

There was a clunk and the door popped open. A broad smile crossed her face and she clicked her tongue in satisfaction. "Still got it..."

"Do I even want to know?" Mac was facing her, an eyebrow arched, his arms folded across his chest.

She shrugged. "Probably not, and who says I was going to tell you anyhow? Girl's got to keep some secrets, right?"

"Secrets of a shady past, Stella? I didn't have you down as the B and E type, certainly not the vehicle crime type either."

"Let's just say I've learned a few tricks in my time. Don't tell me you couldn't have done that too?" It was her turn to raise an eyebrow and a small smirk appeared on his lips.  
"Maybe so," he said. "But maybe I ought to point out to you that we've still got no chance of moving anywhere in this car..." A strange expression crossed his face and Stella watched with both eyebrows raised and her mouth crinkled up in amusement. "Stella, you wouldn't."

"Wouldn't what, Mac? Hotwire a car? Is that what you want me to do? I'm surprised at you..."

"I really don't want to know how you know how to do this," he looked pained and Stella shrugged, enjoying the moment of levity.

"Just get in the car, let me do my thing and pretend you don't see me doing it. And if you don't ask how, I won't tell," she winked and eased herself into the car, trying to ignore the smell of stale take out and cigarettes that whooshed out when the door was opened wide and caused her stomach to lurch again suddenly. She held her breath for a moment, determined she was not going to throw up in front of Mac and after a moment, the sickness subsided, for the time being. The upholstery of the car as she eased herself in was unpleasantly sticky, she could feel that even through wet clothes, and she sat down gingerly trying to touch as little of the seat as possible. Mac stayed outside, one hand on the top of the door, looking in at her.

"Thought I told you to get in the car," she said running her hands over the steering wheel and under it.

"You did," he told her. "But I want to see how you're going to do this. Call it curiosity."

"There is a saying about that..." she mumbled but disappointingly received no reply from Mac. "Okay fine, just let me concentrate..."

With a grunt, she pulled away the base of the steering column, discarded the casing into the back seat and started to yank out tangles of wires. A few rapid flicks of the interior light and she got that on, which made her task a little easier as the wires jumped into multi-coloured focus. What was hindering her though was the continued drumming in her head, making it difficult to concentrate. She picked out a couple of wires, peeled back the ends and held them together. Nothing happened, so she grabbed a couple more, the smooth plastic casing almost slipping out of her fingers, though she refused to believe they were starting to feel a little numb.

Again, nothing happened, and she sighed in exasperation and rubbed her eyes, before sitting back for a moment, letting her fists rest on her knees. The sickness rose in her throat again and she had to swallow a few times, the odour of the car not helping.  
"Want a hand?" Mac asked. "I'm sure if you tell me what to do..."

"I can manage," she snapped without meaning to, and breathed deeply trying to calm herself, she took hold of two more wires. At last a spark cracked between the exposed strands of metal and the engine sputtered into life, encouraged a few moments later to a roar as she pressed her foot on the gas pedal.

"Gotcha!" she exclaimed and felt the triumph lift some of the headache and sickness.  
"I'm impressed," Mac said dryly. "Remind me to question you about that little talent of yours when we get back to the lab."

"The sooner you get in the car, the sooner that's going to happen," she told him, closing her eyes for a moment and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Unless you want me to drive off without you."

"You're driving nowhere," he told her.

"Excuse me?" she cracked her eyes open and turned a surprised gaze on him. "_I'm_ driving, you aren't in a fit state to."

"You're in a far worse state than me," he said inexorably, and Stella felt her stomach sink. She knew when he was not for persuading. But she was still going to give it her best shot.  
"You had a bigger dose of whatever they drugged us with," she pointed out. "Your arm is still bleeding, you were thrown down into that pit. At least I had a softer landing on top of you."

"I wasn't hit over the head with a blunt object, neither do I have a concussion. And I landed on you when we escaped from the warehouse. Move over," he said standing firm. "You've been bleeding, you clearly have a headache from the way you're pinching your nose, and your vision is blurry as well - I saw how you were squinting at those wires. Symptoms of concussion. You're not driving."

Stella opened her mouth to argue, but then suddenly felt too tired and drained to do so. Even though she hated that he was, he was right. Her head was throbbing, pulses of pain were radiating from the spot where she had been hit and the tickle on her ear told her that there was another dribble of blood coming from somewhere, probably after the further knocks they had sustained whilst escaping.

And then sickness flooded her stomach again, and knowing she was not going to defeat it this time, she scrambled out of the car, shoved past Mac, and promptly threw up in the gutter. When it passed, she felt the welcome touch of a cool hand on her neck and a damp but fairly clean handkerchief being pressed into her hand.

"How many of those do you carry around?" she managed weakly after wiping her mouth and turning to face Mac, her legs feeling more than shaky. She leaned her forearms on the trunk of the car to steady herself for a moment and looked at his serious face.

"Always have a couple, just in case," he answered and crossed his arms in front of him. "Regardless, I think that ends our discussion. I'm driving."

Stella sighed and allowed him to lead her back to the car and guide her inside.

"You don't have to," she grumbled and shifted herself over awkwardly, trying not to tangle her legs up with the stick shift. "It was only the smell of the car made me sick. Nothing else."

Mac raised his eyebrows and she widened her eyes, but knew she had failed to convince him. "All right, fine, You can drive, but don't blame me if we crash."

"We're not going to crash," Mac said pulling the door open further and climbing in beside her.

"Can you even drive a stick shift?" she stared at him, fighting the urge to close her eyes, exhaustion sweeping over her again. Mac himself looked as if he was not far from dropping with tiredness as well, and a strange wild urge to giggle suddenly overwhelmed her. She could only imagine how the two of them looked...

Mac threw her a quick glance as he settled himself in the seat, and she noted the concern in his eyes.

"I can, I learned in one."

"However many years ago _that_ was," she muttered letting her head fall back against the seat.

"Just keep talking, it'll keep both of us awake," he told her as he crunched the gears and the car jerked backwards. Her eyes flew open, and she twisted round to look out of the back window. "Tell me you didn't hit anything..."

"I didn't hit anything," he replied in a wry tone. "I'm just adjusting a little, getting used to it."

"Huh," she murmured. "Remember we're going to have a lot of paperwork to fill in about this, don't add to it."

Mac offered no response and with a sigh, Stella sat back and let him continue.

* * *

Deena hurried along the hallway, Carson close behind her. The place was fairly deserted as it was now well after hours and most people had gone home, the few members of the building they had encountered had not taken any notice of them, she grinned at their acceptance of them intruding into their space. It gave her a kick to know that the idiots had no idea of what they were about to face. So far her plan was proceeding exactly on track, as she knew it would. This was the last piece of the puzzle and then she would be out of the city, her faithful lapdog at her heels as they left the rest of the team to their fate, although it was too early for them to realise that yet. Not only that, she didn't think they had the intelligence to work it all out. Dirk and Ali were nothing more than a couple of old time heavies employed to do as they were told and that's exactly what they were doing in the UN Library.

Pausing to look up and down the hallway while in her mind she reviewed the map she had earlier committed to memory, she satisfied herself that they were the only ones visible then quickly yanked open the door to the office and stepped inside. It had taken time to get hold of the blueprints and decide on the right location, but she was certain of her goal now and lost no time in putting it into action.

Instructing Carson to keep watch she hurried over to the desk and opened the small bag she carried. Taking out the right tool for the job at hand she bent down to the vent and quickly revealed the empty cavity behind the grill. As she had discovered, the old disused heating system had been left in place when they had refurbished the building a few years before and it gave her the perfect conduit to enact her plan. A smile flickered across her lips; this would teach them all a lesson.

* * *

Mac was quiet, concentrating on getting the car, which was probably older than she was, to move forward, rather than in conversation with her. In consequence, Stella soon felt her eyelids being tugged closed again.

"Keep an eye on where we are," his voice seemed to shout at her from nowhere and her eyes flew open.

"You don't need to shout," she protested, and wondered why her own voice seemed to ring in her head. She blinked again and was surprised to see that they had left the street they had found the car and were heading towards more docks. They jolted a little as Mac changed gears and they bounced over a couple of ruts, each one sending her head and stomach swooshing unpleasantly.

"Any idea where we are?" Mac turned to her quickly and she pulled herself up in the seat and peered out of the window.

"No..." she screwed her eyes up, trying to make sense of the muddled landscape, made baffling by the streetlights and her own disorientation. The lights seemed to have halos round them and the buildings appeared to be swaying out of the corner of her eye. "Only that we're probably somewhere on the West side... I'm guessing they didn't take us that far from where we were abducted. Wouldn't need to with all these warehouses."

"What I thought as well," he nodded and turned his attention back to the road.

Her attention began to drift again until Mac tapped the back of her hand and she saw the frown he was directing at her. "Still awake?"

"Course I am," she scowled back.

"Good. Stay that way," he turned his eyes back to the road, negotiating a tight corner, and Stella watched him.

They were silent for a few minutes and her feeling became hazy again, the interior of the car began to warm and she felt her eyelids drooping, and the sensation that she was being gradually wrapped in something soft, that her head was being smothered in blankets...

"Stella!" Mac's voice and the tone of it shocked her eyes open again.

"I'm still listening to you!" the words tripped over themselves as they fell out of her mouth in a rush, and she blinked rapidly, experiencing the disconcerting feeling that his face was phasing in and out of focus. "What did you say?"

His eyes were looking out of the windshield, but he flashed a look back to her, his gaze unreadable for a moment. "I'd rather _you_ said something," he replied. "Whatever you want to talk about, then _I'm_ listening."

She scrunched her face up. "You really want me to talk about anything?"

"Anything at all," he returned, keeping his eyes on the road, but throwing her a brief glance after a second. "What was the last movie you watched?"

"I..." she searched the recesses of her mind, and then glared in frustration at her own inability to recall. "I can't remember! Something about... something..." she knew she should remember, but the memory had slipped away into a fog of confusion and weariness.

Mac spoke again and pulled her back to the present situation. "Okay, forget movies, what about restaurants? When did you last have dinner out, and who with?"

She smiled, that was easy. "With you, last week,"

"Good," he smiled quickly and then it was gone, replaced by that creased look of concern she didn't like, especially not when it was directed at her.

"And what about when you last ate something?"

"I don't know," she said with a frown. "Does it matter?"

"It is if you haven't eaten all day. Concussion and nothing to eat is not a good combination, especially after you've just lost whatever was in your stomach."

Despite herself, she had to smile at his gentlemanly way of putting it, which put the last of her embarrassment over it to rest. "I think I had a muffin not long before we left for the crime scene. Satisfied?"

"Not really," he said without removing his gaze from the road. "Hardly a proper meal. I don't want you passing out."

She huffed. "That's not going to happen."

He raised an eyebrow as his gaze slid sideways to her. "I hope not. So tell me again what happened when we last had dinner, what we did, what we ate. I'll keep listening, you keep talking. It'll keep both of us awake."

It seemed straightforward enough, Stella decided. Very well then, as long as she could keep her eyes open and words coming out of her mouth, she would talk to Mac if he wanted her to. It might stop the throbbing in her head, distract her from it anyhow. Maybe it would even help him. So she talked, not really thinking, not much aware of what she was saying, and Mac nodded and threw in a few words of his own to encourage her and they kept driving on through the streets.

* * *

_Lily tried to push for a cliffhanger, but Forest wouldn't allow it, despite Lily stamping her foot and pouting. So now she is _not_ sulking. Very much. So please review as it will help Lily's mood, and maybe prevent too much more peril for our heroes. Maybe... Thanks, Lily and Forest x_


	20. In This Together

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! _

_Thanks to _CapeTown24_ for the review and to _afrozenheart412_ for further thoughts.  
_

**Chapter 20 - In This Together **

Day: 12

Opening Scene: UN Library

Time of Day: About 11pm

Date: Late September

UN Activity: 2 days before the General Debate with Heads of Government

* * *

Following his instinctive sense of direction and knowledge of the city, Mac soon got them onto the road back into the centre of Manhattan. He knew where he was; his question to Stella earlier had been more about assessing her state of functioning. For the moment she was still awake and talking, though some of what she had talked about had been somewhat startling.

However, for the moment, he would have to put aside any response to that and concentrate on getting them to the UN building and to safety. The motor skills needed to use the stick shift had soon come back to him and he found a strange sense of comfort in the hand to eye coordination needed to move the old car. It drove well enough, but seemed to have a frustrating antipathy to speeds over twenty miles per hour, letting him know with a creaking and a groaning that it was not happy. He pushed it though and with much protest, got it going at a steady speed. The roads were quiet, it being a little too early yet for the exodus from the city's clubs and theatres.

As they drew nearer to where they wanted to be, however, the traffic began to build up, and Mac found himself having to negotiate carefully, and a little more aggressively, pushing through gaps, ignoring gestures, and startled looks, from other drivers. Any gridlock and he would be pulling over and finding the nearest phone box and calling 911, but at the moment it suited them to keep moving.

He glanced again at Stella, who was now mumbling something about her favourite dress shop. As long as she was conscious and reasonably alert, he would continue, although he was torn between that and simply wanting to drive to the nearest hospital to have her checked out. She was clearly concussed; even in the city twilight he could see her eyes were unfocused and her speech was starting to slur on certain words. His own injuries didn't concern him so much, although his arm was throbbing and he still felt groggy from the drugs. What was a little more of a problem was the feeling of bone-weariness that had sunk into him, meaning he was having to force himself to keep concentrating...

"Mac?" Stella's slightly blurry voice startled him. "How we doing? You okay?"

"I'm okay," he answered and gripped the steering wheel, feeling the adrenaline at how close he had just come to losing concentration. "Are you? Hang in there, we're almost there."

She blinked owlishly. "I'm fine..."

A sudden block of traffic caught him unawares and Mac stamped on the brake, causing them to lurch forwards as he stopped an inch from the car in front of them, the back bumper almost touching the front of their car. He put his arm out instinctively to the side, trying to stop Stella being jerked too much.

"Sorry," he said as she dropped back against the seat.

She winced and mumbled. "S'okay, don't worry." Studying her carefully, Mac felt anxiety flooding him, but she turned to face him and smiled, raising her hand to touch his cheek, easing a little of the torrent. "Mac, c'mon, soon as we've both had a good sleep, we'll be fine."

"As long as you don't go to sleep just yet," he said with a frown looking ahead at the lines of vehicles slowly beginning to move again. As he glanced up at the nearest street sign, however, he saw with relief that they were only a few blocks from the UN building. "We're almost there. Think you can make it?"

"Sure, long as it's not too far. This car sucks, and it stinks..." Stella rambled and despite the circumstances a small hint of amusement crept into him along with gratitude for how she had managed to help him even in so small a gesture.

It was one of the things he loved about her.

Mac almost startled at that; not for the fact itself, but at how that realisation had become so easy to acknowledge. He looked quickly across at Stella, but she did not appear to have noticed anything. Shaking his head minutely, he gathered his composure again. It was creeping up on him that there were things unspoken that needed to be spoken about as soon as they were able to. Not least after what she had said to him, even though, admittedly, she was probably not entirely lucid...

He closed those thoughts away for the time being though as he gripped the wheel more tightly, stared ahead and pressed his foot on the gas pedal.

------

Lindsay pulled the department SUV into line behind several other police vehicles. As she and Adam got out, she was pleased to see the rain had more or less let up, although it left several large puddles for them to negotiate as they prepared to make their way inside. She tilted her head back for a moment and stared at the sky. She liked the rain, but tonight it did little to appease the constant gnawing in her stomach as she worried for Mac, Stella and Flack, all out of touch and at the mercy of some unknown abductors. She scrunched her nose up as she thought of Danny being injured, how much worse that could have been, and once again she fought to suppress the tears which were never far away at the moment.

It had taken more than the 20 minutes Adam had said it would to get to the UN from the lab, and trying to get the equipment calibrated and linked into the feed from the library had taken far longer than the five minutes he had promised that would take. But they were here now, at last, and they needed to get moving. She shook herself and turned to the back of the vehicle as Adam was collecting several cases of equipment from it. He turned his head to look at her and she gave him a sympathetic smile, or at least she hoped that was how it appeared. She was exhausted and it was beginning to seep right through her, having Danny and Lucy up half the night in pain had not been fun, and did nothing for the much needed 8 hours sleep she had hoped to get. Danny's ribs pained him every time he moved in bed and their daughter was threatening to cut her first tooth, so she was constantly drooling and feeling incredibly miserable. Steeling herself though and fighting back her weariness, Lindsay stepped towards the open door at the back of the vehicle.

As she did so, a strange sound seemed to appear behind her, gradually increasing in volume shattering the semi-peaceful air with a grinding and groaning noise coming along the street towards them, laced with the sound of a car horn at random intervals plus various clanks and rattles. Lindsay's instinct was to put her hands on her ears to block out the horrendous sound, but instead she calmly placed her hand on her weapon as she turned to assess the origin of the noise which was growing with every second that passed. In the dark she squinted down the street to see a wrecked car practically hopping towards her. Gripping her gun handle she glanced at Adam, prepared to face whatever was going to happen next. She felt sure that nothing could be worse than what they had already faced that day but she was feeling fatalistic enough to fear the even worse - yet another attack on their beleaguered team. With her eyes on Adam she noted that he looked tired too, but more than that he looked completely out of his depth, he constantly cast his eyes around nervously, which prompted her to shiver as she was reminded of why they were there and the grinding and crunching drew closer.

The car eventually stopped, well maybe not stopped exactly, it was clearly not meant for the roads having lurched and weaved its way along the street and then appeared to convulse as it spluttered and died in front of the line of police cars. Unable to see the occupants clearly in the dark she called over a couple of uniformed officers for back up as the doors creaked and screeched as they were pushed open from the inside.

As two figures emerged slowly she jumped as the driver sounded the horn of the wreck in front of her. Cursing herself she tightened her grip on her weapon and began to draw it from its holster on her hip.

"Is that-" Adam didn't finish the sentence as he was stunned, clearly, by the sight in front of him, two figures being faced by three armed officers, slowly moving towards them, weapons drawn.

Lindsay kept her eyes on the driver as she edged closer, she could hear Adam's rapid breathing as he hovered at her shoulder. She couldn't blame him, the poor kid was nervous as they tried to study the dishevelled figures several feet in front of them, the street lighting working against them as none offered enough to clearly see the occupants of the car. Suddenly someone found a light and shone it at the apparent intruders and she gasped as their identities were revealed, her hand rapidly covering her mouth while looking between them at the same time as stepping back into Adam.

She wasn't sure if she actually let out any noise, but she was definitely aware of Adam trying to disentangle himself from her, but he made no immediate move to close the gap towards their missing colleagues. Lindsay could feel her heart pounding, although they had all refused to give up hope and somehow knew their bosses were not dead, it was a shock to find them here, in front of her, in such a battle-scarred state. Stella appeared to be leaning heavily against the car while Mac, whose right arm was clearly injured and paining him, studied the activity around the UN at the same time as keeping half an eye on his partner. Finally Lindsay managed to gather her senses and quickly shoved her gun back into its holder, the relief at seeing the two of them, missing for over twelve hours, almost overwhelming.

"Stella! Mac!" she cried as she rushed first to Stella and hugged her, ignoring the officers who still had their guns out as Mac circled the car to join them only to receive a hug of his own. "Are you alright? We've been so worried! Where have you been? What happened?" Looking between them both, she was shocked at their appearance, almost as shocked at their most unexpected reappearance.

Adam had approached and now stood awkwardly behind her. "You okay, boss? Stella?" he asked hesitantly.

"A bit battered, but we're alive, we can fill you in on the details later. What's going on here?" Mac asked, indicating the scene around them with his good arm, the other one stayed hanging at his side. The officers finally lowered their guns and stood waiting now for any further instructions.

"Hostage situation in the library, they've got Flack and Natalia Hunt too," Lindsay answered him, unable to take her eyes off the pair of them. Then noting how Stella had not yet taken part in the conversation and was still leaning against the car, she asked. "Stella? Are you sure you're alright?"

"Fine," Stella answered, far too brightly for it to be true. "I'm fine."

Lindsay raised her eyebrows as she caught the look Mac threw at his partner. "You're soaking wet, let's get you some help." She turned to one of the officers. "Get EMS over here and cancel the search for our detectives."

"No, Lindsay, we're okay for now, we only need some dry clothes." Mac insisted his voice firm despite his obvious exhaustion. "We've also got-" Lindsay didn't wait for him to finish as she looked over her shoulder at Adam as if willing him to do something other than shuffle from one foot to the other and stare open mouthed at their colleagues. She didn't think they'd noticed his behaviour as Stella was obviously injured and in a dazed state, and Mac, even with his own injuries, seemed preoccupied with her and the increased activity which, fueling Lindsay's curiosity, seemed not to surprise him.

She pulled back from the barrage of questions she wanted to fire at them though. "Best I can do is some overalls in the back of the truck. Let's get you inside first and looked at and we can fill you in." Tearing her eyes away from them, she turned to the car and reaching inside, pulled out two plastic bags and a case. Adam finally hefted two more large cases and placed them on the floor, so that he could close the door.

Lindsay was aware of Mac tending to Stella and glanced over her shoulder to make sure they would not hear, before whispering to Adam, "I really don't know why those two insist on denying how they feel."

Adam looked a little wistful as he answered. "You know how Mac is, admitting he loves Stella means he has to admit he can't survive on his own."

Lindsay agreed quietly. "Maybe when this is all over we can persuade them to take some time off to recover. Together..." she offered as she glanced back over her shoulder. The subjects of their brief conversation were coming towards them and Adam flashed her a look before busying himself with the cases.

"Lindsay, how long's this been going on?" Mac demanded.

"Started around 6 pm just as the library was about to close. Why?"

He frowned and looked quickly at Stella. "This isn't the main event, it's a diversion, we need to tell you what we know."

"And we'll hear it Mac, we just need to get you two looked at first and get you in some dry clothes." Lindsay folded her arms and was reminded of her husband's attitude and aversion to practical assistance.

Mac glanced between himself and Stella then half-nodded at Lindsay. "We will when you've heard what we got. Who else is here?"

Adam finally piped up, a concerned look crossing his face. "Danny and Hawkes, been here for a few hours, Scagnetti's in charge and linking in with the Chief, SWAT are on standby."

"Good," muttered Mac, obviously running things through in his mind before he spoke again. "Call the bomb squad too." Lindsay gaped at him and almost dropped the case she was holding. Mac, however, seemed oblivious as he turned to see to Stella again, his fingertips running over her temple. "You need to get that bang on your head looked at, but first we'll find you a place to change," he assured her in a quietly caring voice.

But it was not that that had registered foremost in their minds; Adam's eyes had almost popped out of their sockets, and Lindsay guessed hers must be doing the same as they glanced at each other.

"The - the bomb squad?" Adam stuttered picking up the cases again. "What do we do now?"

Lindsay swallowed and managed to find her voice again. A voice with a reassurance in it she surprised herself with. "We carry on, Adam." Pulling him a little way ahead of their bosses, she murmured. "Let's find the others and hear Mac's information then we can then judge if we need to make that call. Not that I don't trust him, but it seems a bit much on top of the hostage situation." She rationalised what she realised was tantamount to doubting the Head of the Crime Lab, but surely, she thought, there could not possibly be a bomb now as well.

Could there?

Maybe the worst _was_ yet to come...

_That's enough! _Lindsay told herself severely and she picked up the remaining cases and strode off in the direction of the Library building, leaving Adam and the others to follow her. She paused once to check over her shoulder and saw Stella stumble, but she was quickly steadied by Mac, who then kept a protective arm around her as they moved forward. Lindsay sighed at the sight, they really needed to take some time out for themselves.

------

Natalia had been watching the movements of their captives for some time now; assessing what they were doing and making some judgments on the hierarchy amongst them. It seemed to her that two of them were the leaders - the fat man, as she unceremoniously named him, and the thinner, darker haired man. Listening in, she had overheard their names - Dirk was the fat man and Ali was his companion. She kept hold of the names, knowing they could well be used to her and Flack's advantage.

The other armed men did not seem quite as individual; one of them she thought she had heard referred to as Tariq, another as Glen, but the other two remained anonymous. Of their faces, she could see nothing. Black ski masks concealed their features, and even eating as they now were, they had simply lifted up the bottom half of the masks. There was no chance of identifying them. On that front at least, it seemed as if they knew what they were doing.

"What do you think?" she nudged the man at her side, seeing him slumped back into apparent listlessness again. "Do you think they're going to make another move?"

He turned his eyes to her, and then glanced over again at the men before answering her in a low voice. "Yeah, I think something's going to go down soon. They're building up to it. Been keeping an eye on them. Guy in the suit seems to be the leader, the fat guy, can see from the way he's talking to the others."

She looked and had to agree with his assessment as she saw the way he positioned himself in front of the others and seemed to be issuing instructions. "So what next? Do you think they're going to make any demands?"

Flack narrowed his eyes. "Now that I'm not sure about. Seems like they ought to be by now..." He let his voice die down as there seemed to be some more consultation going on between their captives and both of them strained their ears to overhear as much of the conversation as possible. To her annoyance, after a few moments, she felt a tickling sensation building at the back of her nose. Unable to stop it, even by screwing her nose up, she sneezed loudly, the sound echoing horribly around the room. The conversation between their captors ceased momentarily as they stared over at her, but then to her relief, they turned back to each other and continue talking.

"Sorry about that," she murmured to Flack and he shrugged.

"Not a problem. Need a handkerchief? Always keep a few on me." True to his statement, he pulled a bunch of them out of his pocket and Natalia raised her eyebrows. "Allergies," he explained, noticing her puzzled look and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Allergic to cats, big time. Fortunately there aren't any in here."

"No..." she replied and a twist of her lips. "Thanks for the offer, but it's fine, I've got Kleenex on me."

"Fine."

They lapsed into silence again, listening for any scrap of information they could overhear. It was not much though, a few mumbled words, and a few more names. Natalia distinctly heard the name 'Deena', but nothing else that seemed useful. Conversation soon finished and the two they now knew as Dirk and Ali moved a short distance away to continue their murmurings, not for a moment letting go of their weapons. The other four moved back into their position of guarding their hostages. One of them stood in front of her, so she sent him a glare and he grinned back, the material of his ski mask stretching.

"Like what you see, Lady?" he sneered, but she ignored him, turning her face away. He laughed, however, he let any further comment go so she risked another glance over at the other hostages. They were subdued for the most part, a couple of them huddled together, and she caught the eye of one man who sent her an agitated look. Hoping it was reassuring, she sent him a smile and a nod, and put her finger to her lips, making a subtle gesture over to the two gunmen who were talking. He seemed to understand and nodded back.

Flack was watching her as she turned back to him. "Everyone seems okay," she said and he nodded.

"Yeah, been keeping an eye on them. Long as we all stay calm we'll be fine. Give 'em a few more minutes and maybe we even start talking, see what they want." He gave her a searching look. "You with me on this? 'Cause this is going to need a cool head from everyone."

Natalia returned his gaze steadily. "You've nothing to worry about on that score from me, and besides," she added, holding her wrist up and bringing his with it. "We haven't got a choice in the matter. Whatever happens, we're in this together."

-----

Carson glanced over his shoulder as they followed and soon merged with other members of the building through the cordon and out into the city, unchallenged. The cops were focused too much on what was going on in the other part of the plaza and their escape now seemed guaranteed. He grinned at Deena as she sent a quick glance back at him, whilst she hurried along about two steps ahead of him. For the moment his feelings for her were unconditionally admiring; she had been right, the plan had worked perfectly and they were on the home straight. All they needed now was to find a cab, and in New York City at this time of night, that would not be too difficult.

Nothing moved on this street, it having been closed off to allow free access to the authorities, however, they simply continued two streets over and found the normal traffic flow giving them plenty of transport options to their new destination.

He hurried to catch up as Deena waved her arm to hail a cab. It pulled over and he moved to open the door for her and then, taking hold of their most precious cargo, he slid into the seat beside her as she issued the instructions to the driver. As they pulled into the traffic and left their target behind Carson settled the bags on the floor and took Deena's hand, raising it to his lips.

"You were perfectly right my dear, I don't know why I ever doubted you."

Her smile almost dazzled him in the darkness of the back of the cab. "It's almost a shame we won't see the final results, but it will be all over the news for weeks, so we'll still see the fruits of our labours and those two heavies and their cronies will take the fall for everything."

"It's going to be quite a challenge to top this," he murmured and let his thumb caress the back of her hand.

Lowering her eyelids and moving closer to him, her gaze wandered over his lower body and his breath caught in his chest. "Oh I don't know," she murmured, raising her eyes again. "I have a few ideas to play with. Though after what we've gained today, we're going to be able to take it easy for quite some time."

She grinned at Carson wickedly as he kissed her hand again and they settled back against the seats, relaxing into a comfortable and secure silence. Together and with the world at their feet, so it seemed, there was no looking back.

* * *

_Many thanks for reading. Lily recovered from being forbidden to use a cliffhanger last chapter, after being allowed a small one here. Please review and let us know what you think! Thanks, Lily and Forest x_


	21. All Fall Down

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful! _

**Chapter 21 - All Fall Down**

Day: 13

Opening Scene: UN Library

Time of Day: Shortly after midnight

Date: Late September

UN Activity: 1 day before the General Debate with Heads of Government

* * *

Danny, pacing up and down in the foyer outside the UN library, his exasperation building, could contain himself no longer. "We've been here _hours!_" he exploded, the words almost smashing into the far wall. "Who the hell takes hostages and doesn't demand one thing? And where the _hell_ are Lindsay and Adam? They said they'd be here nearly an hour ago!"

"They'll be here. They'll be held up with something."

"What's holding them up for this length of time? Tell me that!"

He slammed his fist against the table, watched impassively by Hawkes. His inability to take action was becoming increasingly frustrating, as he pondered the fate of some of his closest friends and found himself becoming unsure if they were all going to come through this event unharmed. And now Lindsay and Adam's no-show was beginning to worry him. He stared around him to see if anyone had heard his outburst other than his fellow CSI, but most of the officers, including Scagnetti had disappeared, so for the moment it was just him and the mild-mannered Doctor. The others would be back though, no one disappeared for long in this kind of situation, the kind that created a constant stream of people in and out as they waited for news.

Hawkes stood with his arms folded, his usual placid demeanor unruffled, which Danny found at that moment even more infuriating. How could the man stay so relaxed?

"Calm down, Danny," he said, and ignored his groan. "We talked about this, Lindsay should be here any time with the kit Adam mentioned."

Just as he was about to start tearing at his hair, over their shoulder a police radio sputtered into life.

"Boom!" he yelled, hoping this was finally something for them to do after feeling like they were just sitting around waiting for action. The radios had been relatively silent in the foyer so the only plausible reason for it to activate was that there had been some sort of development. Spinning around, he made his ribs hurt grabbing for the radio.

_"... Confirm search abandoned for missing detectives on orders from the Crime Lab."_ The voice of the dispatcher crackled over the airwaves. It almost dropped from his hand.

"Abandoned the search?" he spluttered in anger. "Who the hell called off the search? Lindsay wouldn't do it.... They can't! What the..."

He stood in front of Hawkes, his chest heaving as all the worst reasons for the search being abandoned surged through him. Even Hawkes looked shaken, but he held out his hand for the radio.

"Danny, you have to take it easy, those ribs won't take much more action before one of them breaks again. You _have_ to go easy or I'm sending you home, like it or not," the Doc was firm, letting him know he was serious, but Danny was equally firm in his mind that he wasn't about to be sent home like a naughty schoolboy. He was here, and here he was going to stay.

"You ain't sending me anywhere, Doc!" he glared at him for a moment then rubbing his sore chest he slowly nodded at him and handed him the radio as the stern look did not leave Hawkes's face. "Alright, alright... I'll take it easy, but I ain't going nowhere, except to find out which _moron_ called off the search for Mac and Stella!" he raised his voice.

"That would be me then," Lindsay's voice floated over his shoulder causing both of them to swing round and face her looking for an explanation as she came towards them across the foyer, Adam in tow.

Danny saw a certain relief, and even a small measure of triumph in her face as she put down her case in front of them whilst Adam moved to set up the equipment he had brought in, after throwing both he and Hawkes a wide grin. "Montana?" he asked in confusion.

"Take a look," she smiled, thumbing over her shoulder. He looked where she was indicating, as did Hawkes, and the police radio clattered to the floor. At the entrance, Mac and Stella were clearly visible, speaking to a relieved looking Scagnetti. Staring open-mouthed at them, Danny took in, even from the distance they were at, how wet, muddy and unkempt they were - Stella's hair, although pulled back in a pony tail, was matted, Mac, with a cut to his forehead also wore what looked like a handkerchief wrapped around his arm and they both had bruises starting to show on their faces. But they were alive and returned. In a state of shock, and delight, at their sudden reappearance both he and Hawkes took only a second to glance at each other before they started forward to greet them. Ignoring the phone on the desk as it started to ring behind them, they rushed over, half expecting them to vanish again.

They both turned at their approach; Stella's face breaking into a smile and Mac giving them a welcoming nod. Scagnetti moved to one side to allow them room, and forgetting his ribs, Danny enveloped Stella in a reassuring hug, which Hawkes copied the moment he released her. He thought better of it for the boss, however, and offered Mac his hand instead, which he took, but not with his usual firm grip.

That was when Danny looked beyond the surface: neither looked in good shape; Stella had a trickle of blood running down the side of her face along with dried lines of it down her neck, and it was clear from the way Mac shook his hand that he was favouring his right arm and the makeshift bandage indicated he had at least a nasty cut underneath. Unfortunately the sight of them standing, well in Stella's case leaning against Mac, before him did little to quell the churning in his stomach. They might be alive, but they weren't exactly in good form, and he looked to Hawkes for the next move as out of the corner of his awareness, he saw Scagnetti step over to the two SWAT officers by the phone.

Hawkes's first move was to glance at Mac, but he rapidly turned his attention to Stella who was sagging heavily against her partner. The gash on her temple was unmissable and as he examined her with a professional eye, Danny noticed the concerned look which crossed his face before he turned to Mac himself.

"What happened? How did you get here? Where were you?" he blustered, feeling helpless and almost at a loss for words at the bizarreness of the situation. They were the last two people he had expected to see; even though they had not given up hope, they had been expecting it to be a case of Mac and Stella being found by the team, not the other way round.

Looking exhausted, Mac nonetheless answered him in a manner that told him he was in charge of the situation. "One thing at a time Danny, the thing is we're here now. Bring me up to date on what's happening here. Lindsay says Flack and Natalia Hunt are in there?" he indicated the large carved door across the foyer.

Danny nodded, relieved to be able to give Mac some solid information. "Yeah, happened about four or five hours ago, no one knows how they got in, so far no demands of any kind, Adam got a look at the hostages, they all seem okay," he rubbed his ribs as he replied, trying not to wince.

"That's something. How did Flack and Miss Hunt get involved?" Mac asked, briefly looking around at the gathered team before his attention was taken back to his partner.

"He was here following a lead, talking to her. Wrong place, wrong time?" Danny surmised

Mac nodded and threw another quick glance to the side as Hawkes drew Stella away a short distance to focus on inspecting her injuries. "Clearly. We have a few developments of our own. It appears this is only the appetiser, designed as a distraction whilst something else is going on here. We found a note which suggests that a..." he stopped, his eyes again observing his partner.

At that point, Scagnetti re-joined their group allowing Danny to note the creased look on his face as they all now observed Hawkes trying to tend to Stella's wound, while she continually protested that she was alright, albeit sounding drunk and far from alright. She was barely standing up straight, and Danny cast his gaze around for a chair, but there seemed to be none in sight.

"I'm fine, Hawkes! S'nothing... just a li- lit... s'nothing." She tried to side-step Hawkes but wobbled violently before bracing herself against the table. Danny glanced at Mac who stepped over quickly to his partner, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Stella? Did you hit your head?" Hawkes spoke patiently as he held out his arms to catch her if she fell.

She looked at him through heavy eyelids. "Probably..."

Danny didn't miss the angry glare Mac gave their colleague. "Not of her own free will, someone took a swing at her!" he practically spat, a dam full of barely pent-up anger in his voice. Then seeing the astonished look on the Doc's face he dropped his head for a second until Stella's hand moved to his wrist and clasped it, and he looked up again and spoke with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Hawkes, you're only trying to help."

Hawkes nodded, accepting the apology before he spoke gently to Stella. "If you've suffered a head injury, it's not something to mess about with. I just want to take a look. Have you got a headache? Are you feeling dizzy?"

"I'm fine!" she protested weakly. "Just a little tired..."

Mac gave Stella's shoulder a light squeeze, turning her wavering attention back to him. "Stella, let Hawkes look at you, that cut on your head is bleeding again where you knocked it. You need to get it seen to."

She stared at him for a moment, their eyes seeming to relay an unspoken message, before she gave a small nod. "Okay."

"Okay, good," Mac breathed out heavily, then turned back to Danny and Scagnetti, and encouraged them to move away from Hawkes and Stella, allowing her some space and a little privacy to be checked over. "I was just saying, we found a note which ties in with what Stella overheard whilst we were being held, in a warehouse on the West side," he rummaged in his pocket, brought out a soggy piece of paper and held it out to Danny who opened it in the palm of his hand, careful to support the fragile paper as Mac continued talking. "We need to organise a search of the entire plaza, as I said, this is just a diversion, something else is going on here."

Scagnetti and Lindsay, who had joined them moments ago, peered over his shoulder at the water stained piece of paper in Danny's hand. The ink had clearly run from submersion in water, or from getting soaked in Mac's jacket pocket and looking at Mac the latter was the more likely answer, Danny decided.

"'Big bang'?" queried Scagnetti, narrowing his eyes at the head of the Crime Lab.

The implications hit Danny like shrapnel, along with the unnerving memory of how he had used his favoured exclamation earlier. He could only hope it wasn't prescient. Looking at Mac in shock, he blurted out. "An explosion? Shit, we've got a bomb too?" he wheezed, feeling his chest constrict in horror. "Is that what you're telling us, we've got a bomb to find?" He gritted his teeth as a sharp pain shot across his chest from where he'd attempted to inhale a deep breath. Beside him he could sense Lindsay's alarm, and wished for a desperate moment that this was some kind of sick joke. "Shit!"

Scagnetti scrutinised the note again then rested his hands on his hips, solemn-faced. "If there is, it could be anywhere in the city."

"No," Mac answered firmly, flexing his hand on his injured arm. "Their targets have all been focused here on the UN, if there is a bomb it will be here somewhere in the complex. But if this is a diversion I doubt it's in this building. Have one team search the grounds and everyone else focus on the secretariat building. Lindsay, did you call the bomb squad and tell them what we know?" he demanded, turning abruptly to her.

She looked a little guilty as she answered. "But we don't know anything for sure Mac, all you have is that paper. What if it was planted?"

"It wasn't, I think it's good information," Mac replied grimly. "Whoever took us had no intention of us surviving."

A sobered silence fell.

"Alright, better safe than sorry I guess," Lindsay spoke up after a moment, a little subdued now, as she half-glanced at Danny from under her eyelashes before she turned and hurried away to where Adam was setting up the surveillance equipment on the table next to the phone.

Scagnetti looked between Danny and Mac. "I've got an update of my own, that phone call ... We just heard from the guys inside, first contact. No demands yet, they're testing the waters."

Danny raised his hand to rub his head, only to lower it, hissing in pain from stretching his ribs again. "It's gonna be a long night then," he muttered, wondering how Lucy was getting on with his Ma.

No one disagreed with him.

* * *

Flack was leaning with his back against the wall, his eyes half closed but he was still watching their captors across the room. Natalia was hunched over next to him. Her knees drawn up and her arms crossed on them giving herself a form of pillow for her head; as a result his left hand was resting on her right shoulder for comfort, but the cuffs still bit into his wrist, leaving a red line where they chafed his skin. He knew hers must look similar, if he stretched his fingers out he'd be able to touch her, commiserate with her maybe. Although her pose suggested she was sleeping, he didn't think that was likely, no one would sleep under the circumstances, but he was amazed at how relaxed she appeared. He began to wonder how she could take it all so easily, a couple of the other hostages had sobbed on and off since they were captured and they had all been been looking agitated and fearful, but she hadn't shed a tear, the only time she had come close was when he asked her about Michael Stratton. Thinking about it she kind of amazed him the way she stood up to their captors...

Just like Jess would have done.

_Jess._

He missed her like crazy every day, but he was glad she wasn't here, he'd been reckless enough when it all started, and he hated to think how bad things could have got if he had been protecting her too. He rolled his head, stretching his neck muscles, getting another look at the woman he'd been cuffed to for the last 5 hours or so. She'd been pretty sore for a while after he'd lunged at their captors, so he needed to be careful about how they worked with whatever was coming, he didn't want her hurt again.

He rested his head back against the wall, this time his eyes firmly on their captors. Their hierarchy had become more evident as time went on, Dirk the fat guy, he was definitely in charge, Flack had watched him talking on the phone a short while ago. It was hard to work out what he was saying, but it was clear there had been no resolution when he hung up and touched fists with the apparent 2nd in command. The more he watched them, the more he decided those two were the biggest threat, and for all the leadership he appeared to have, he was actually going to be slightly less of a threat than his pal Ali who seemed more jittery than a caffeine high, and possibly, he worried, a little trigger-happy. Flack rubbed his hand over his face. They needed a plan, silence wouldn't reign for much longer, but for now he would let Natalia rest. Natalia, it was a pretty name, very Russian, he wondered how she ended up with it, it was quite a mouthful so he could see why the British Security Officer called her Tali, maybe after this was all over he'd ask her about it.

He sat for a few more minutes as the gang settled down again across the room; knowing there was no immediate threat was a little calming and he took the opportunity to cast his eyes across at the other hostages. The security officer was still tied to the chair, but at least they had now removed his gag. As he caught his eye, the man gave him a resigned shrug. Everyone looked exhausted, Flack was feeling it too, his back had gone into a spasm some time ago and now ached constantly from being sat on the floor, what he really needed to do was stand up and have a good stretch but there was little chance of that happening anytime soon he knew as he cast another lingering look over at their captors.

Flack closed his eyes while he tried to devise a plan to get everyone out. It seemed that as he did, a klaxon began sounding loudly, echoing around the room. His eyes sprang open in time to see Natalia's head shoot up and their captors grab their weapons. Murmurs from the other hostages created a hum in the previously quiet room and he noted Natalia's anxious glance around before she turned to look at him. He must have had some sort of puzzled expression on his face because she answered his question even before he could open his mouth.

"It's a bomb alert. Fire alarm is constant, bomb alert we get this. Is that what these guys have been waiting for?" she asked, still calm, but with the slightest flicker of apprehension in her question.

"I think we're about to find out," he replied, watching as their captors approached them. Judging by their sudden movement and the way Dirk and Ali were waving their guns around it was clear that they were also short of answers and were about to demand them.

"Looks like they're just as surprised as we are," Flack turned his attention to Natalia for a moment and for a split second he thought he caught a flash of fear run through her eyes.

"So it seems."

"What's the normal drill?" he asked.

"Check your area and evacuate when given instructions to move," she reeled off and gave him a small smile. "It's drilled into us from the day we get here..."

"You!" Ali's voice came over clearly as he yelled at Flack and Natalia, advancing on them menacingly while still waving his gun. Flack pulled Natalia back out of the direct line of fire. "This some shit of you cops? Trying to get us to give up?"

Before Flack could respond, Natalia glared at Ali. "We've sat here for hours while you lot hung out! It's clear you're waiting for something, maybe this is it, you thought about that? What the hell are you waiting for anyway?"

"That's none of your business! Just shut your mouth or I'll do it for you, I already took out one woman today, doing the same to you will be a pleasure," the sneer in his voice gave a whole new level to the threat of his words.

"You bastard!" he yelled at the gunman as images of Stella lying injured flashed through his mind.

Natalia rested her hand on his arm and her stern tone caught his attention before he was able to say anything else. "Don't," she told him firmly. "Just don't give him the satisfaction, Stella's going to be fine, you have to believe that," she consoled.

Before he could continue Ali opened his mouth again with a twisted smirk. "Yeah, listen to your girlfriend there, should have seen him when he found his friends' car down by the river, didn't know we were still around watching you did you? Haven't been able to find them either have you? Call yourself a detective... Oh, and just for your information, I'd say at this point, neither of them are fine."

Flack's blood was boiling now, the threat to an innocent civilian and the taunting reminders of Mac and Stella being missing and possibly dead had enraged him beyond rational thought.

He launched himself forwards ....

* * *

Hawkes, watching what was going on between Danny, Mac and Scagnetti out of the corner of his eye, had caught to his dismay the word 'explosion', but had forced himself to ignore the implications of that, and turned his attention back to Stella. His focus was firmly on her now, even as an alarm began a harsh, regular beeping and activity in the foyer increased. In a moment, he decided, he was going to call the paramedics over, regardless of her protests. And regardless of the protests he knew Mac would make, he was going to insist that he was checked over by them as well, and preferably sent away from the scene to rest and recover.

After Mac had spoken to Stella, she was allowing him to examine her head, and he had persuaded her to lean against the wall whilst he did so. Realising, however, that it would not take much for her to slide down it and collapse in a heap, he was keeping a firm grip on her arm. Finding the large lump just above her ear where she had been hit had not taken him long; the wound had a crust of dried blood around it, and he was now dabbing at it with medical wipes he had taken from the first aid kit at the reception desk of the foyer. It was a vicious injury and he was grieved and angry that someone had inflicted that on her, along with all the other damage that she and Mac had suffered. Mac, despite the fact he looked battered and exhausted, seemed to be steady on his feet and alert. But although for the moment she was just about hanging on to it, Hawkes was alarmed at how far Stella was drifting away from consciousness.

At the first sight of both of them earlier, he had been horrified at their appearance, and even now, as he glanced quickly at Mac, he could see his face looked grey and drawn and his arm was clearly paining him. When Danny and he had raced over to them, he had had to stop for a moment and compose himself, breathe in a gust of air, the memory of finding their badges by the river too raw in his mind. He shook his head then, and concentrated on Stella, on the fact that she was in front of him, and that even if not in the best health, she was nevertheless alive.

"You okay?" she murmured, blinking at him, and he gave her arm a quick squeeze.

"It's me who's supposed to ask you that!" he smiled.

She smiled back, even though her eyes looked increasingly glassy. She also seemed to be having difficulty keeping them open and that was worrying him. Again his hand hovered over the radio he had caught up, wondering if he should just call EMS now and have both of them removed, forcibly if necessary, to hospital. Both she and Mac were visibly suffering with cold and wet, and in Stella's case, a violent shuddering had gripped her. If he was wearing his jacket or a coat, he would have put it round her, but as it was, he was wearing kevlar and there was nothing else available for the moment.

Mac was watching them, his attention lost from whatever Danny and Scagnetti were saying, and as he caught Hawkes's eye, he suddenly strode over to them. Stella raised her head at his approach, and it was suddenly clear that she was looking worse - all colour had gone from her face and underneath the streaks of dirt she was looking quite green. Feeling his concern rising rapidly, Hawkes stepped back and took hold of his radio as Mac reached them, just in time to catch his partner as her eyes hazed over and her legs buckled beneath her.

As she grasped his arm, she mumbled. "Just need... sit down a minute..."

"Stella!" Mac's voice was laden with deep concern, even fear. "Don't go passing out on me." Hawkes recognised the tone, it had the same urgency he had heard from his colleagues calling out after the bar shooting. It brought a chill of memory to him as he relayed his brief demand for EMS and then shoved the radio back into his pocket.

"Mac, medics are on their way..."

He had wrapped an arm around Stella and appeared to be having difficulty supporting her, but Hawkes heard his voice softly reassuring her. "Stella, I got you, it's okay..."

Moving swiftly, he took most of Stella's weight from Mac's injured arm, helped him lower her to the floor and then Mac knelt beside her, propping her up as she slumped against him, shivering violently now.

With a press to her freezing hand, Hawkes hunkered down in front of her and spoke firmly and clearly to her. "Stella, can you still hear me?"

"Yeah..." she murmured. "Still here..."

He exchanged a glance with Mac, whose face was lined with worry, and moved his fingers to her wrist. Her pulse was too rapid and thin for his liking, but he kept his voice reassuring and calm. "Okay good, now listen, the paramedics are on their way, just try and keep your eyes open a bit longer, think you can do that?"

She mumbled something incoherent, her head drooping against Mac's chest who, sitting on his knees now, had his hand gently round her face, his thumb brushing her cheek.

He bent closer to her, his lips almost brushing her hair. "Stay awake, Stella, please," he urged, and Hawkes felt suddenly awkward and intrusive at the tenderness in his voice and gesture.

Shifting back on his heels, he placed his hand on her shoulder. "Soon as you've got to the hospital, you can sleep there, okay? I know you're exhausted."

Between her tremors, she gave the smallest inclination of her head which he took as indicating her agreement, so with another glance at Mac, who had remained in the same position of support, not removing his eyes from her, he began to get to his feet to check if EMS were on their way.

At the same moment, Stella gasped suddenly, clutching Mac's other hand.

"Mac... tell them... all gonna fall down... everything..."

Then her eyelids fluttered closed and her head dropped forwards as her hand lost its grip on her partner's.

"Stella!" alarm crossed Mac's face as he patted her cheek and received no answer. "Come on, don't close your eyes yet... Stella, come on, wake up!"

Huddled limply against him, she gave no response, and Mac, his face now tight with worry, threw a look at Hawkes.

"They're on their way, Mac..." he started.

But his focus was back on Stella, as shifting her carefully so she was lying cradled in his good arm, he tried again. "Stella!" And then as Hawkes began scanning the foyer for any sign of the paramedics, he heard the anxiety in Mac's voice increase. _"_Stella!"

* * *

_So, peril finally caught up with Lily and she is injured (poetic justice?) meaning she was allowed a small cliffhanger this chapter also. Many thanks for reading and reviews would be very welcome by both of us, particularly the one who is damaged :D Thanks, Lily and Forest x_


	22. Repercussions

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful!_

_Thanks to afrozenheart412 and ballettmaus for some extra thoughts._

**Chapter 22 - Repercussions**

Day: 13

Opening Scene: UN Library

Time of Day: Shortly after midnight

Date: Late September

UN Activity: 1 day before the General Debate with Heads of Government

* * *

Natalia knew the moment Ali opened his mouth that things weren't likely to end well, so this time when Flack lunged for him she was ready. Grabbing his arm, she pulled herself to her feet taking him with her, then turning her back to Ali, she planted her right hand firmly on Flack's chest and stood between them. She could feel his heart hammering, and keeping her eyes firmly on his she could see the fire burning there, she just hoped that she could bring him down. Ali wasn't going to make it easy however, she could practically feel him shuffling behind her, the click of his gun as he played with the safety catch. Grasping Flack's left hand in hers, she squeezed, unwilling for now to remove her hand from his chest, feeling that it was the only thing stopping him moving forward.

"You just don't listen do you?" she spat at the furious detective. "He's baiting you, he wants you to react! Don't do it Flack, you told me Mac's an ex Marine, so until you see their bodies, there is a chance, a good chance they're still alive, don't just accept his word for it. You're a detective, you follow the evidence and all that tells you right now is that they're missing."

Natalia felt her own heart pounding; she was taking one hell of a risk by not only putting herself between the two men, but turning her back on the more dangerous one holding the gun. She held her breath waiting for the first one to react to her. Flack flinched and she thought he was about to go forward again so she pressed her hand more firmly against his chest. "Please don't," she mumbled choking back the tears which she had suppressed all evening and which now suddenly swam in front of her eyes. He had been the only thing that had stopped her and it terrified her what would happen if anything happened to him.

She heard Ali chuckle behind her and held her breath. "You can listen to her all you want detective but it ain't gonna change the fact that your friends are gone, and there ain't anything you can do about it. ... Now sit down and shut up." She heard him flick the gun safety a couple of times and felt Flack's heart pound against her hand again.

"Please don't," she repeated, pleading, keeping her focus on Flack; that creep Ali had known which buttons to press to get a reaction and she was the only thing stopping the situation from exploding. She shivered and hoped her reassurance wasn't in vain. She saw Flack blink then look at her, then he raised his right hand and removed hers from his chest, squeezing her hand slightly before letting it go, the same time as he nodded to her. As she tried to give him a reassuring smile, she felt the tears well in her eyes, so she closed them and stepped to his side in an effort to hide them. For the moment it was over and relief washed over her, Ali cackled as he decided he had taunted them enough and wandered away cursing the alarm which was still going on.

Natalia got a quick glimpse out of the window, there wasn't enough light to really see out, but in the dark she thought she could see people moving about, she guessed SWAT were out there somewhere waiting for a good moment to make their assault and she hoped they didn't have to wait much longer.

Then a hand rested on her shoulder, drawing her attention. "Natalia?" She thought for a moment there was a note of concern in his voice. "You didn't have to do that."

"Someone had to!" she hissed back, "You weren't thinking, we're in this together, remember?" She yanked on his left wrist with the cuff, knowing he got the message when she heard the sharp intake of breath telling her his wrist was as sore as hers.

They were silent for a few minutes and she looked around at the other hostages who were shuffling about under the gaze of their captors. The fat guy was standing to one side and she knew he was watching her and Flack. She shivered again involuntarily at the thought that she was being scrutinised again, and as she did so, Flack's hand tightened on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "Honestly."

"Just please don't do it again," she answered more softly as she turned her head and looked at him. "I'm just scared what the repercussions will be if he actually fires that gun... it feels like he's just looking for an excuse and realistically it's you he'll probably shoot first, but I kind of like my life and I don't want to be in the firing line if he misses, besides now you're actually talking to me, I was hoping we could talk properly after this is over ...." She cast a glance over her shoulder at the other hostages before looking at Flack again. "You can take me to dinner."

This time she was able to flash him a smile, feeling the earlier tension dissipate for the moment. She had taken the chance at lightening the mood, both to take him further from the rage he had been in minutes earlier and to calm her acrobatic stomach as she looked in his eyes. Although she was mad at him, there was something about him that was beginning to get to her, it was ridiculous to flirt with him right now, but she just wanted him to actually notice she was there, that he was not the only person involved in this, so that next time he might just think about the consequences before he acted. She didn't know what his problem was with her, but when he gave her that look, the one he had now, where he quirked his eyebrows and had a faint look of amusement about him, something inside her melted; after the way he had behaved since they met, she was surprised at the reaction she was having to him, but she was determined not to let him see it. Normally, she would never let anyone treat her like he had done up until now, but she had put up with him for the sake of finding Michael's killer and then tonight they had actually talked to each other for the first time...

Then there was that look.

It didn't mean that she forgave him though, at least not yet.

"Dinner?" he asked incredulously. "You'd actually want me to take you to dinner?"

She felt his hand brush her neck, as he removed it from her shoulder, sending sparks down her spine. She dropped her gaze from his as she tried to keep her breathing steady, unsure whether the touch had been deliberate or just an accident from his hand moving. She figured it was the latter and taking a breath looked up at him again, the rage from earlier now gone from his eyes, replaced by something else; but what that was, she couldn't quite work out.

"Natalia?" his voice was gravelly as he drew her attention again. She knew he was questioning her sanity at that moment and she owed him some kind of explanation.

"I figured you owe me at least one dinner to apologise for the way you've treated me since we met, in return I'll try and prove to you I'm not after your investigation." This time she held his gaze as she spoke.

"I get the feeling there's a little diplomatic negotiation going on here."

"Of course there is, it's my job ... and I'm good at it."

Flack was about to answer when she saw a frown cross his face and he looked up, over her shoulder and she turned to see what had caught his attention. She reached for his left hand with hers, avoiding any further pulling on the metal encircling their wrists; the fat guy was advancing on them, his gun clearly aimed at them.

"He looks mad," she whispered as her heart began pounding again; maybe it was exhaustion setting in, but she was finding it harder to keep focused and suppress the fear which she had so far kept hidden, so she took half a step closer to Flack, not sure if by doing that it would keep him calm or if he would have a similar effect on her.

-----

After seeing the EMS team in the distance and confirming they were heading in the right direction, Hawkes knelt back down beside Stella, and took hold of her wrist again. Her eyes remained closed and she had clearly passed out cold. What was also clear, not least from the way he had called her name, was that her collapse had affected Mac badly.

"Mac, it's okay," he met his boss's anxious gaze as he laid her arm down gently. "Her pulse is steady enough and EMS are coming our way." He was fond of Stella and was concerned about her too, but he was able to detach himself a little and view her condition in simply a medical sense. Mac, however, did not have that detachment.

He nodded distractedly, looking at him for a heartbeat, before turning back to Stella. It had been a long time since Hawkes had seen such worry in his face, not since, in fact, the last time Stella had been injured: he had been present when the information came through to Mac that she had been pushed down a flight of stairs and attacked at the beginning of their investigation into the Greek coins, and the speed at which Mac had gone tearing out of the lab had almost knocked him flying. It made him wonder now just how much of an ordeal they had both been through, and what effect this had on them, not least on the webs of emotions they had spun around and about and for each other.

But that was not for him to wonder on; not at the moment anyhow. For now, he had to ensure that the head of the lab didn't follow suit with his own collapse, as looking at him, it seemed that he was not far away from it. If possible, his face had gone even greyer and he was also shivering as he continued to hold Stella, his arm round her shoulders supporting her as she lay partly on the floor, partly across his knees.

"Listen, Mac," he tried again to bring down the anxiety he could see beginning to escalate. "I'm surprised Stella held out this long: judging by the knock she took to her head and the symptoms she's showing, she's got a bad concussion, but given the right treatment, she'll be okay. She's likely suffering exhaustion as well from all you've been through. The same exhaustion as _you're _suffering from," he was determined to get his point in.

Mac frowned as he looked down at his unconscious partner again and almost without thinking about the movement, ran his finger down her cheek. "She's not eaten for at least twelve hours..."

Hawkes nodded. "That figures... so she had nothing to keep going on, her energy levels will have fallen through the floor, that's all going to have contributed to her collapsing," he paused and fixed his gaze on him. "And what about your energy levels? When did _you_ last have something to eat?" he asked pointedly.

The lack of response was answer enough and Hawkes sighed, and made up his mind there and then that Mac was no more staying at the scene than Stella was. Although, he had a feeling that it would not be too difficult to persuade him to accompany her; judging by the way he had not for a moment released his hold on her and the way he was, despite the pain it was clearly causing him, using the hand of his injured arm to clasp her arm.

Alerted by Mac's previous exclamation, people were milling and murmuring in concern around them now. Hawkes motioned them back, however, letting only Danny through who passed Mac's discarded jacket to him as his eyes were drawn to Stella.

"She okay, Doc?" he asked with anxiety, easing himself down beside them with a hiss as he rocked back on his heels and rubbed his chest. Hawkes threw him a disapproving look as he put the jacket round Mac's shoulders himself after Mac seemed oblivious to him holding it out to him. "Mac, _you_ okay?"

With a dazed look, Mac glanced up at him. "Fine, Danny..."

Danny raised his eyebrows and Hawkes offered him a brief shrug and discreet shake of his head.

He turned then to Mac, with something that had snagged his attention a few minutes before and asked curiously. "Mac, when Stella said about everything falling down, what did she mean? What happened to you both before you got here?" he was desperate to know more, but aware at the same time that this was not the most opportune time. It was more an attempt to keep Mac talking, and keep his clearly fragile state of mind intact by focusing it on something else.

He raised his head and gave him an unreadable look, but Hawkes caught a glimpse of some of what they must have endured inside his eyes, and he found his hand seizing Stella's cold one and grasping it as Mac rasped. "It's a long story..."

Hawkes nodded, sympathy deepening in his gaze. "I'm sure it is. But whenever you're both ready to tell it, we're listening," he offered Mac a tentative smile, and then looked up as EMS finally arrived, maneuvering Danny carefully but firmly out of the way. He let go of Stella's hand then and stood up to give them room.

-----

"Hey, sugar," the fat guy, Dirk, came towards them, a sneer on his lips, and an angry look as he let his eyes wander over Natalia. "You and the tall guy, we got things we want to chat with you about..."

Flack felt his anger, never far from the surface, rising again as he heard the woman beside him addressed like that, and the taunts earlier about Mac and Stella burned in his gut. It took every ounce of control to restrain himself from lashing out once more. Breathing deeply he forced himself to answer as calmly as he could.

"Oh yeah? So chat, we're listening. Got no place else to go, have we? What do you want to chat about? We know there's something you're going to be wanting, why not share it with us?"

The fat guy snorted. "You don't know jack, so don't try and get smart with us. You'll hear our demands when we're ready," a smile leered towards them. "Don't forget, we're the ones calling the shots here, in case you'd forgotten."

Flack let a deadly cold smile turn the corners of his mouth. "Oh we hadn't forgotten, kind of hard to with that thing pointed at us..."

"Hey!" a voice from the other side of the room startled all three of them, and they turned to see one of the hostages, a man in his mid thirties dressed in a now crumpled suit, clambering to his feet, rocking a little unsteadily as he gripped the window sill. "Hey, enough of the smartass comments, okay? You going to just stand and talk? What the hell is this? Why are we even here? Do you know I've got a wife and daughter waiting for me at home, hey? I'm telling you, I've had enough of this! You hear me? Enough!"

Desperation rose in Flack, as he saw in seconds the delicate and complex balance of the situation being destroyed. One wrong move and it would collapse.

At his side, he felt Natalia stiffen, but he could not remove his eyes from the man, and he tried frantically to send him a signal, shaking his head as he stepped forwards.

"Listen, buddy, this isn't going to help, just stay calm..."

"How do you expect me to stay calm after all this? You think any of us are calm?" he yelled, his hands shaking and his eyes wild.

Flack held up his free hand and took another step, aware of their captors and feeling the tension soar in the room. Heat prickled over him and he felt the tingle of his nerves. "I can see you're not calm right now, and yeah, we're all feeling it, but the best thing you can do is just sit tight, okay?" He took another step. "Okay?"

The man wavered, glancing round at the other hostages who were staring between him and the men with guns and Flack himself, eyes back and forth, fear evident in all of them.

"Flack..." Natalia muttered, still at his side and he threw her the briefest glance, at the same time as wrapping his cuffed hand around hers, giving her what he hoped was reassurance that he knew what he was doing. Even though he didn't. Even though he could see it all sliding away from him and crashing around them all...

Raising his hand a little more and turning slightly towards the other hostages, he continued, feeling sweat begin to trickle down his back. The fat guy had edged away from him a little, giving him space, and Flack could only assume that the guy thought he would calm the hostages down. "You're going to sit back down and we're going to just sit tight and wait for these guys to make their demands, and then we're all going to get out of here..."

Ali shoved his way forwards then, brandishing his weapon and overbearing Flack's voice with his own yell. "Sit back down, none of you are going anywhere till we say so!"

Flack knew it was exactly the wrong thing to say, a red rag to a bull as it were; the anxious man made a sudden run for the door, the fat guy's gun swung round to seize control, a shout broke from someone, and Flack felt every muscle in his body tense as he stared in horror when Ali swung his gun in the direction of the shout.

-----

Danny could not fail to note the looks Mac kept shooting at Stella's unconscious form as the EMS team took her gently from his hold and started working on her, preparing to move her. He seemed worried, really worried about her, as he hovered over them, watching their every movement and answering their few questions with monosyllables. Judging by his next words, Hawkes had obviously noted their boss's distracted state too as with a hand on his shoulder, he offered him a solution to his obvious dilemma.

"Mac, why don't you go with her to the hospital, get yourself checked out too? That arm needs at least a few stitches and an x-ray. We'll keep you informed," he advised holding out a cell phone to his superior.

Mac lifted his gaze to him, a shell-shocked look in his face. "I'm needed here-"

"Stella needs you more. You've both been through an ordeal, and I know you're not good on medical advice, but trust me you need to go," Hawkes's calm but insistent tone seemed to be reaching Mac, but Danny watched and waited in uncertainty as he continued. "Listen, concussion's a nasty thing, but as I said, given the right treatment, she'll be okay. Just get both of you to the hospital and take care of yourselves, we've got things covered here," he paused and gave Mac a searching look. "Take care of what's important. Trust us to do the same here."

Danny, holding his breath, was only a little surprised when their boss nodded his head slightly and turned to look at the medics who were waiting now to move Stella, before turning his gaze once again to Hawkes and giving him a penetrating stare. "I trust you," he said in a low voice, and Hawkes nodded.

"Thank you."

"Make sure you keep me informed," Mac instructed finally in a rough voice before taking the phone, stepping away and preparing to accompany the medics.

"Mac!" The anxious shout from across the room drew their attention as Reed, someone they had almost forgotten about in the chaos, ran towards the group.

Alongside Hawkes, Danny watched as Reed hurriedly hugged his step father, wrapping his arms around him before stepping back, and studying him, keeping his hands on his upper arms. "I was so scared! Doctor Hawkes told me what was happening, that you'd been abducted. Are you alright?" He looked as if he could hardly believe the sight of Mac.

Mac moved a foot back unsteadily and held up his hand before the young man. "Reed?" he whispered, surprise crossing his face. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Europe."

Danny could tell Mac was questioning his own eyes as he half looked at them for confirmation that Reed was indeed standing before them. So to save him further distress, he nodded quickly. "Reed was outside when we arrived, we had to tell him about you and Stella."

"You shouldn't be here," Mac looked absently at Reed, and a slight look of hurt passed across his face. Danny shook his head to himself, and willed Reed on as the hurt was replaced by a stubborn set to his jaw.

"I'm here and I'm staying with you," he said determinedly, and then looked across at Stella in the hands of the paramedics and his face dropped back into concern. "Is Detective Bonasera going to be okay?" He looked anxiously at Hawkes who gave him a reassuring smile and a hand on his shoulder.

"She should be fine, now I suggest you go to the hospital and keep Mac company."

Danny noticed the look from the man in question, indicating that Mac wasn't too enamoured of that idea and was about to say something, but Reed got there first. "I will," the younger man answered while giving the dishevelled detective a firm look.

Danny was a little relieved when Mac nodded his assent after a brief and tense pause, before issuing Reed further instructions in a voice that lacked its usual strength. "All right... You can go by my apartment first and bring me some dry clothes, I'll meet you at the hospital."

"Detectives, we're ready to go," announced one of the patiently waiting medics looking around the assembled group. Danny watched in relief as, with Mac and Reed accompanying them, they all moved towards the exit and then sighed at the stubbornness of his boss.

But with Stella and him delivered into the care of the right people and safely away from the scene, it was back to business and the defusing of the potentially explosive situation they were in. "Okay, we've got a search to organise," he ordered turning to the SWAT officer who had appeared behind his shoulder. The man nodded and the place buzzed into further action around them. It gave Hawkes and him a moment to catch their breath and a sigh gusted out of Hawkes as he leaned back against the table, the sound hidden by the Klaxon which was still droning, but somehow in the last few minutes they had blocked out.

"You all right, man?" Danny asked him, seeing suddenly the exhaustion on the Doc's face, and remembering how recently he had returned to full duties.

He gave him a wry look. "What is it with people never wanting to accept any medical help?"

"You're not including me in that of course?" he shot the Doc a quick grin before he sobered again. "Both of them looked pretty bad... They going to be okay?"

Hawkes looked at him seriously. "Long as they don't go busting out of the hospital before they're cleared to and listen to what advice is told them, they'll be okay," he said, and gave him a faint smile.

"Listen, why don't you and Adam go and join the search for the bomb, I'll monitor what's going on here, it'll keep me out of trouble," Danny suggested as he saw some of the SWAT team head for the door. "I'd say any help they can get would be good about now and it's all quiet in there," he continued, jerking his thumb at the library.

Hawkes nodded. "You could be right. My guess is this will go on until the bomb threat is over."

They glanced over the room to Adam who was in discussion with Lindsay and Scagnetti, but seemed to sense eyes on him as he looked around. Danny waved him over, a hand resting protectively across his chest, keeping his eyes focused on him to hide the pain which ripped through him.

He told Adam of the plan quickly and then shooed the two of them out of the foyer to catch up with the search party, leaving him to join Lindsay and Scagnetti who had been intently watching the monitor Adam had rigged up. The pair turned their backs on the screen as he stopped next to them.

"Is Stella okay? Did Mac go with her?" Lindsay asked, laying her hand on his arm for a moment and giving him a concerned look.

"He did, and yeah, Doc reckons she'll be okay, long as both her and Mac stay out of trouble for a few days," he said seeing how worried Lindsay really was.

"Like you did, huh?" she asked wryly.

Aware he was looking a little sheepish, he took a moment to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't worry, okay?"

She managed a quick smile. "Hard not to when half the team have ended up in hospital in the last week!"

It made him wince, remembering his own ordeal, and in response, his ribs sent another dart of pain through his nerves.

"Flack's getting a little antsy, looks like words were just exchanged with one of their captors, but whoever he's cuffed to is a tough cookie, she just stuck herself between the two of them and seemed to calm things down," Scagnetti's voice interrupted as he filled him in. "All's quiet again for now."

"That's good... That's good," he mused as he raised his hand to rub his neck only to hiss in pain, earning himself a severe disapproving look from Lindsay.

Silence fell between them as finally someone killed the alarm, for a second or two bathing the foyer in an uneasy silence.

Then...

_Bang._

_Bang._

Two shots echoed from the library, beyond the carved oak door.

* * *

_OK so Lily has recovered and can not take responsibiltiy for this ending ... Forest is to blame. Many thanks for reading and reviews would be very welcome by both of us. Forest is distracted by RL family troubles and would love your feedback. :D Thanks, Lily and Forest x_


	23. Rescue Mission

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt. We did like 'Death House' though :D  
_

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful!_

_Thanks to afrozenheart412 and ballettmaus for some extra thoughts._

**Chapter 23 - Rescue Mission  
**

Day: 13

Opening Scene: UN Library

Time of Day: Early hours of the morning

Date: Late September

UN Activity: 1 day before the General Debate with Heads of Government

* * *

_... Two shots echoed from the library, beyond the carved oak door ..._

Danny, Lindsay and Scagnetti immediately turned their attention to the monitor on the desk. Lindsay raised her hand to her mouth to stifle the cry which was about to escape as she watched in horror at the scene before them. There was frantic movement, someone had fallen, but they could not see what had happened, and then with a crackle of static, the monitor cut out and they were left blind to what was happening inside the library.

"We're going in," Scagnetti said firmly, his face showing the tension of the moment. "Lindsay, you up for this?"

Shaking herself, shaking away the dread at what those two shots could mean, she nodded, then glared at Danny. "You stay here," she instructed firmly, resting a hand on his chest. "Lucy needs you, you are _NOT_ to try any heroics, you got me?"

She waited until he reluctantly nodded at her, but her resolve almost faltered when he grabbed her hand and said. "She needs her Mom as well, don't forget that. Be careful and don't go trying any heroics yourself, Montana."

Giving him a tremulous smile she squeezed his hand back. "I won't, I promise." Then she turned to Scagnetti before her emotions overwhelmed her. "Okay, let's go."

Danny watched them, she was well aware, as they hurried across the room to join the remaining SWAT Team who were preparing to take action. All she could do was hope he would do as he was told and not risk injuring himself further, and she would do her best to risk no injury herself.

* * *

Natalia realised it had been her shouting as Flack collapsed against the wall at her side, almost pulling her on top of him where they were still handcuffed. Immediately, she dropped to her knees at his left side to assess the damage, to find him clutching a bullet wound; blood already oozing between his fingers from the gaping hole. As the other hostage had made a break for the door, she had shouted, Ali had fired and Flack had been hit. The fat guy had fired at the other hostage, narrowly missing him and he had now slid down to the floor, a bullet hole above his head, and his arms wrapped round his head in terror.

But for the moment he was safe and alive, and ignoring the panicked cries of the other hostages, Natalia put everything to the side as she focused on Flack. He was in a bad way, his skin was already paling and sweat was beginning to shimmer on his face. She knew what it was costing him not to let their captors know he was in pain, which was clear from the sound of his laboured breathing and the steely look in his eyes. He was struggling to get up so she placed her hand on his shoulder and urged him to stay still as she struggled to reach into his pocket for the handkerchief he had wafted at her earlier.

The fat guy, dragging the man who had tried to break free with him, had moved away from them to keep the other now hear-hysterical hostages controlled in the aftermath, so she extracted the the handkerchief without the other advancing gunman noticing, and then she edged closer to Flack before removing his hand and pressing his clean handkerchief against the wound and then replacing his hand.

She was worried at how quickly the blood had stained his shirt, a sign the bullet could have done some major damage. At a guess anyhow, she was not familiar with gunshot wounds. A quick flick of her hands, as well as she could for the handcuffs, over the area and around his back told her the bullet was still inside: the one thing she knew that was clear above all others was that if he dislodged the bullet from its current location, the situation could be far worse. She looked around in search of anything or anyone to help her. It was a forlorn hope though as the gunman was advancing on them, his weapon pointed at Flack's head.

Sensing Flack about to make another attempt to get to his feet, she pressed her free hand to his chest keeping him still. What was worrying her though was how she could feel him starting to shiver; not a good sign. A glance at the blood stain spreading further across his shirt and onto her as she applied pressure to the now soaked handkerchief sent fear through her, and as her eyes darted between the two men, she felt the terror that things were about to get even worse.

* * *

"Okay, everyone got all they need?" Scagnetti called out as he glanced round at his colleagues. There was a last-minute fumbling of vests and weapons until he received the signal that all was ready to go. The leader of the SWAT Team, then sent the signal round for them all to get into position and drawing in a deep breath, he prepared himself for whatever they were going to find in there.

* * *

Flack felt the burning pressure in his side as a female voice issued instructions that echoed in his ears.

"Stay still detective, you're bleeding badly. I need you to keep still so I can take care of you."

"Good idea detective, listen to your girl," the gunman sneered.

"Not... my... girl" Flack wanted nothing more than to punch the guy but could only hiss defiantly as a vision of Jess on the floor of the diner clouded his mind. He shook his head, he couldn't deal with that now. He felt sick, his head was beginning to spin; was this what she felt as she lay there waiting for help? Was this how it was going to end for him? But he needed to focus, he needed to do something... He couldn't let her down... Jess... And there was someone else too... someone else he realised he couldn't let down... The woman who was speaking now

Sick and cold and somehow unable to open his eyes, he tried to lean forward, but the woman speaking to him ... Natalia, that was it... not Jess... _not _Jess... held him back and pressed her hand over his again, he guessed to try and staunch the blood flow. He remembered the feel of the blood as it seeped from the wound in Jess' side, only now it was his own blood he could feel. Harder now, he could feel his hand being pressed against his side and he bit back a moan from the stab of pain which shot through him. Even though it did little good, he tried to avoid the pain by shifting away from the pressure.

He had barely made the first twitch towards his goal when he heard her speaking again. The firm voice dragged him back to the present for a moment and he cracked open his eyes to see the blond woman kneeling next to him. As he had guessed, one hand was on his, pressed over the wound, trying to stop the blood. Her arm was also draped over him effectively keeping him down. He wanted to argue, to fight against it, but the truth was he hadn't the energy, and hadn't the energy left any more to worry about that. Starting to slump again, his eyelids began to close without him being able to stop them, and the edges of his vision darkened.

Letting his eyes close fully now, powerless to resist them, he sank into a confusion of pain and voices and shouting... too much shouting... it was hurting his ears. It would be so simple to give in ... but could he do it? He had fought the last time, after the bomb. Life had been important, he had things he wanted to do, but now nothing was the same without her. Without Jess. He half turned his head, he could feel the bile rise in his throat and the tears fill his eyes.

Other faces appeared before him. Simon Cade's, as he realised he was going to die for killing Jess as he pulled the trigger; Mac's concerned look as he tended to Stella in the bar after the shooting; Lindsay calling for Danny and the groans from others who had fallen alongside them. And then the words echoed moments before about Mac and Stella being drowned, two of his closest friends taken from him as well. He remembered as well the words of the woman next to him; to follow the evidence, to not belive they were dead, but he could not summon the strength to believe it. They were gone too... as he would be soon if he let go...

What would happen if he let it all go, would he see them all in whatever came after? Was Jess waiting for him? Maybe now was the time to discover if there was a life after death. It would be so easy to close his eyes and give in to whatever...

But before he could slip any further, something pulled him up. He must have moved again as her voice broke through the haze which was descending.

"Don't move, you'll only make it worse," the blonde woman told him. The one whose name had slipped away from him. "Stay still, they would have heard the shots outside, we just need to be patient," she added in a whisper.

"No... time," Flack hissed through the pain as he shook his head and forced his eyes open. "Have to ... stop the..."

"Stop the what detective? ... The bomb? Yeah, we heard your friend earlier tell you what that was I don't think you're in any fit state to be making such rash statements," Ali sneered as he levelled his gun at Flack's head again. "In fact it won't worry you at all in about ten seconds."

* * *

Danny smacked the monitor which was still displaying the static image. "Damn piece of shit, don't cop out now, I need to see what's happening in there!" he hissed in frustration.

The screen flickered and scrolled for a moment before settling down to give him eyes once again on what was happening in the library. He zoned in on the three figures separated from the rest; two were on the ground, the other held a gun on them. From their position he could tell it was Flack and Natalia under scrutiny and that the gunman was agitated in the way he didn't stand still, the gun waving about. Then with a growing feeling of horror as he studied Flack more closely, he realised that he was slumped on the ground and seemed to be hurt.

In agitation, he turned his head to the rest of the team preparing to make the assault. "Guys, one of the gunmen is getting antsy, you need to go in now, he's threatening Flack, and I think he's been hurt."

Scagnetti looked at him. "What's Flack doing?"

Danny stared at the monitor for a moment and tried to zoom in for a better look, then shook his head and turned back to the team. "Not a lot, can't get a good look, but he hasn't moved, Natalia's still with him... I think he's injured... he might've been hit." He almost choked on the bile rising in him, unable to contemplate another member of the team in trouble. His chest constricted and he rubbed it again.

"Okay, just keep us informed best you can." Scagnetti then turned to the SWAT leader to agree their final strategy. At that moment, Danny caught Lindsay fixing him with a firm stare, but with her fears showing through: he wanted to give her a hug, but they had work to do, there would be time for hugs later with their daughter. For a guy who, a few years ago declared he didn't do cuddles, he'd actually warmed to the idea and now there was nothing he liked better than to be curled on the sofa with his girls. But with a pang of regret, he shook the image from his head, now was not the time for those thoughts, they needed to save Flack, anything else was not an option.

* * *

Natalia was acutely aware of the gunman standing barely six feet away and waving the gun around. She cast a quick glance around the room and decided she had to do something. She could hear Flack's increasingly laboured breathing and feel the blood now soaking through her suit from the pool forming on the floor. She knew things were bad, that they needed to get him out of there soon, although she had some first aid training she had no equipment. She glanced at his hand which was covered in blood and realised she needed more packing to try and stem the blood flow, the handkerchief had helped, but it wasn't enough. Dropping her head to think for a moment brought her to the decision that there was only one option... With bloody hands, she pulled at her white shirt, tearing shreds from it which she pressed against the wound on his side.

* * *

The SWAT leader turned to the group behind him, his hand raised. Absolute silence fell as he began the countdown with his fingers. Danny watched from a distance, his eyes switching rapidly between the monitor and the door. "Come on Flack," he muttered. "Just hold on a little longer..."

* * *

Flack felt the hand pressing his side again a dull pain went through him, he wanted it to stop, without the pressure he was okay, it didn't hurt. With a painful effort, he attempted to reach the woman's hand to stop her, but he had no energy. At least though he wasn't alone, he was glad about that. He wondered if Jess had known he was there with her in the diner.

_Jess. _

He missed her, he missed her so much, but the pain was going now and a cold, numb feeling was taking over. It was harder to breathe. He closed his eyes. He had tried to push the image away, but it kept returning, now he didn't want to push it away, he welcomed it. He could almost feel her again, it wouldn't be long and he'd find out what happened ... after.

Something drew his attention then, his eyes saw the light reflecting off her long brown hair and the frown which creased her forehead. She was there, _Jess_ was there. She hadn't gone, but now their roles were reversed and he could see the pain in her eyes as she leaned over him, comforting him. He wanted to touch her, but he couldn't make his body move, he just felt so tired ...

* * *

Danny still had his eyes fixed on the scene with Flack and Natalia, he could see her moving a little, but it took him a moment to realise what she was doing, in other circumstances seeing a woman rip her shirt would be quite erotic, but not now. Now she was using the material on Flack, he couldn't get a good enough look at what she was doing but Flack still hadn't moved which wasn't a good sign. What really sent the chill down his back was when the gunman planted his feet firmly and raised the gun towards Flack, a cold calculating move, which could only mean one thing. The gunman was preparing to fire.

"Scagnetti, you better get in there now, Flack's nearly out of time!" he growled over his shoulder as the leader of the SWAT team finished his countdown.

* * *

"Jess?" Flack barely whispered the name. Natalia looked at him, beads of sweat covered his forehead and his skin had taken on a deathly hue. She used a piece of her shirt to wipe his forehead quickly as a distraction pulling his arm with her where they were cuffed.

Their captor stood over them his gun still aimed at Flack's head. "It's time," he gloated as he steadied his aim. Natalia turned to him and refused to take her eyes off him, even when she heard Flack shuffle at her side and somehow succeed in putting his hand on her arm and whispering that girl's name again.

"Don't worry Detective, it's not your time yet," she answered firmly before nudging him to his side as the bullet exploded from their captor's gun and embedded itself into the wall beside her head. As Flack fell he pulled her too, but not before she caught the look of total shock on the guy's face before he fell backwards as the doors flew open and two bullets were fired into his chest.

* * *

With Lindsay and Scagnettic close behind, the members of the SWAT team poured through the doors as more shots echoed around the room. They fanned out around the room, shouts ringing from them as one of the team put two shots into the fat guy just as he raised his weapon and advanced towards Flack and Natalia. Another of the gunmen fell as his gun was swung towards the team and the screams of the other hostages. It was over in moments, and Lindsay barely had time to feel her heart hammering before her eyes fell on Flack and the woman beside him.

* * *

The loud bang as the doors burst open, announcing the arrival of the SWAT team startled them all, Natalia laid Flack quickly on his back, he needed her attention more now that the authorities were taking charge of everything else. The firm pressure she applied to his wound caused him to open his eyes a slit. She smiled at him in relief. "That's it, look at me, it's all over. You're going to be okay. We'll get you out of here in a minute." But then his hand slipped from its position on his wound and his eyes closed as he faded towards unconsciousness and her smile disappeared.

After yanking at his tie and loosening his shirt collar, she then pressed her hand back against the wound, the makeshift dressings soaked in blood. She ripped another strip of material from her shirt to support the effort while giving thanks that she had opted for the camisole underneath rather than a bra. Pressing the new dressing to his side she leaned over him, his skin was pale and clammy, signs of blood loss and shock, he was in bad shape and she was struggling to know what to do for the best, in frustration she yelled at him. "Damn you, you're not going to do this to me, I'm not letting anyone die on me like this, you hear me Detective? Stay with me. I just saved your miserable life, the least you can do is let me keep you that way!"

She knew he had heard her as he fought to open his eyes again and murmured. "...Jess?"

"I'm whoever the hell you want me to be if it's going to keep you alive until you get to the hospital!" she snapped.

He half smiled at the comment which she knew was intended for whoever was on his mind. His voice was breaking as he tried to talk. "Jess... I - tried... I tried so hard..."

"I know you did. You're not to blame for what happened," Natalia tried to reassure him, speaking in a softer voice and hoping she was picking the right words.

"Jess?" Natalia heard the name softly on his lips again, fearful of the fact that he really wasn't aware of what was going on as he was slipping again from consciousness.

"Detective? Flack? ... I need you to hear me, open your eyes. ... Look at me, Detective." She instructed firmly, knowing the longer he remained conscious the better his chances.

His eyes fluttered open a little and gazed unfocused around her. She sighed a little with relief as she placed her hand on his cheek and guided his face towards her, trying to help him focus. "That's it, I'm right here, I'm not leaving you until they drag me away, you are not going to die on my watch you got that?" she told him. With a quick glance around the room she directed her next onslaught at the woman who was hurrying towards them. "Can somebody get me some help! Detective Flack's been shot, we need an ambulance! Please hurry! And while you're at it find some keys to get these cuffs off!"

* * *

_Lily does not take sole responsibiltiy for this peril... Forest is also to blame. Many thanks for reading and reviews would be very welcome by both of us. Real Life has been difficult this week. Thanks, Lily and Forest x_


	24. Still Ticking

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful!_

_Thanks to afrozenheart412 and conche for some extra thoughts._

**

* * *

**

Chapter 24 - Still Ticking

Day: 13

Opening Scene: UN Library

Time of Day: About 1.30am

Date: Late September

UN Activity: 1 day before the General Debate with Heads of Government

* * *

Lindsay heard the anguished cry from one side of the room as the gunfire tailed off. The SWAT team were barking orders and information to one another, still creating a noise and along with some wails from the hostages wondering what what happening, it seemed as if they had world war three raging around them. She quickly spun her head to take stock of the situation and saw one of the team kneeling down with a blond woman. Recalling that Flack and Natalia had been in that area, she hurried over, her eyes scanning for the tall detective, her concern growing when he did not appear to issue orders.

Her heart seemed to hit the bottom of her stomach and bounce to her throat when she saw the blood pool and Flack lying in it looking just as he had after the bombing.

"Oh, God! No!" she whimpered, her hand covering her mouth as the SWAT officer stood up and summoned a medical team on his radio. Natalia Hunt, the woman with him, must have heard her and looked up.

"He's still alive, but he's not making any sense," she said frantically to Lindsay. "He keeps asking for Jess, I assume she's his girlfriend?"

At that, Lindsay did not know what to say. It wasn't her business to say anything about Jess, but it showed how much everything was affecting him. As she dithered, the woman continued, her voice increasingly urgent. "Please, I need something to tell him, he's worried about Mac and Stella too, the missing detectives."

Lindsay snapped out of her trance at the mention of their names and as she bent down beside Flack and Natalia, fumbling for a key to unlock the handcuffs that attached them, she answered her. "Mac and Stella? They're at the hospital, Mac's a little battered and Stella's got a concussion, but they think she'll be okay..."

She realised she was rambling, but the look of relief which washed over Natalia's face reassured her as the other woman, as soon as she was free, turned to Flack and cradled his face in her hands, seeking to gain his attention. "Flack, hey, open your eyes, I've got some good news."

Lindsay watched Natalia trying to get through to him, amazed at how focused she was after all that she had been through. She lost focus herself again though for a moment as she watched the SWAT officer step aside to make way for the medical team. Natalia moved only a little, still trying to gain his attention. "Flack, listen, I know I'm the last person you want to hear right now, but you have to wake up. Mac and Stella are okay, they're alive and at the hospital, you'll see them soon."

Flack blinked and his voice was a weakened whisper. "J-Jess?" Lindsay felt her heart drop again at his wounded and confused state as his eyes closed.

"What is it?" Natalia asked him softly.

"Wh-Wh- Jess?" His eyelids half opened, then he rolled his eyes, Natalia still cradling his face in her direction.

"You want Jess?" Natalia flicked her head up and looked around before looking at Lindsay. All she could do was to blink back the tears and shake her head. The other woman seemed to understand as a look of sorrow crossed her face.

"Sorry, Miss, you need to move now, we need to get him out of here," the voice of one of the medics broke the look of the two women and Natalia turned her attention back to the man they were working on.

She caressed his cheek as she spoke again to him. "Jess is in a safer place, I'll stay with you until you get to the hospital... Can I do that?" she almost pleaded with the medics as they placed an oxygen mask on Flack's face. Lindsay's heart went out to the woman who was doing everything she could to help with her limited knowledge of the team and his past. They both stood up and stepped back so they could move him to the stretcher, and that was when Lindsay saw the state of Natalia's suit which blood had soaked in big blotches down one side. She felt the gasp catch in her throat at the sight as a panicked voice came across the hall.

"Montana!" Turning to the doors she caught sight of Danny hurrying towards her, a fearful look on his face.

"Danny, here!" she called back, waiting until he reached her to speak again. She caught hold of his hand meeting the fear in his eyes. "He's in a pretty bad way, Natalia promised to stay with him in the ambulance, why don't you go to the hospital and meet them there?"

She waited while Danny looked around at the scene, his eyes drawn to his friend. "Yeah, yeah... " he paused and shook his head, his face white. Then he turned back to Lindsay, and seemed to notice for the first time the woman standing next to her. "Is she alright?" he asked indicating a stunned looking Natalia with one hand while he rubbed his chest with the other.

"Yes, it's - it's Flack's blood... He's been asking for Mac and Stella... and - and Angell," as her voice dropped to a whisper, Lindsay could feel the tears in her eyes at the fears washing over her for him as well as still worrying about Stella. Danny rested his hand on her shoulder, turning her gently towards him as he seemed to draw himself together.

"He's been through worse Linds, so has Stella, they'll both be fine. You focus on what you've got to do here, I'll go with Flack and Natalia." His voice was shaky but determined.

Lindsay felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder and looked at him carefully before nodding and swallowing hard. "Do - do the delegation know she's okay?"

Danny shook his head. "Not yet, but I'll call Jim Swain, he'll send someone to pick her up I'm sure."

Managing a small smile, Lindsay sighed. All she wanted Danny to do was to wrap his arms around her, but that was wrong for many reasons, for one it wouldn't be professional, two, it would do further damage to his ribs and three it would be her undoing and right now was not the time to let all her emotions out over the events of the last 24 hours. She needed to focus on gathering what she could from the disrupted scene in order to put away the guys responsible for everything.

* * *

As he stood abandoned for a moment at the entrance to the ER whilst Stella was taken away for treatment, Mac let his eyes glaze and his mind drift. The journey to the hospital had taken too long in his opinion. There had been too many minutes for him sitting back helplessly, pushed politely into the background, a blanket round his shoulders, whilst the paramedics took the foreground of looking after his partner; _his_ partner. But as he thought that, a wave of guilt almost swept his feet from under him as he remembered everything that had led to them being in this situation. Stella's words at the scene of their abduction rang in his mind; they should have waited for back-up, _he_ should have waited for back-up instead of being stubborn and insisting it would be fine. Because it hadn't been fine: his decision had meant that Stella, the woman he should have protected as his partner, who always tried to protect him, had ended up admitted to hospital after an ordeal that she should not have been put through.

With a groan, Mac felt his shoulders slump and his legs weaken beneath him...

"Sir?" a voice made him lift his head to see a young male nurse standing beside him, looking questioningly at him. "Are you all right? Is anyone seeing to you?"

Mac shook his head, still dazed, his voice sounding like it had cracks in it. "I just came in with my partner, in the ambulance, she was taken into the ER..."

The nurse nodded and smiled reassuringly. "I got it. Looks like you could do with some help though yourself. How about you come with me and we'll take a look at you? Then we can find out how she is."

Feeling too weak to protest, Mac allowed himself to be led into one of the treatment rooms.

* * *

A building without people was an eerie and melancholy place, Adam thought as he and Hawkes searched steadily through the rooms of the abandoned Secretariat building. And a building without people but possibly with a bomb in it was even worse. The entire place had been evacuated and other than the beams of their flashlights and a few murmured words between them, there was no sound, no light, no trace of anyone or anything.

So far.

"Kind of spooky, isn't it?" he blurted out to Hawkes, his voice seeming to clang in the still building. Immediately he winced as his companion turned round to him with a startled look.

"You spooked, Adam?" Hawkes asked as he stopped and shone his flashlight towards him.

Adam blinked and shielded his eyes before the other man turned the light away from him. "No... no. Not spooked, obviously. It's just, you know, kind of creepy, with no one here..." He risked a glance over his shoulder.

Hawkes sent him an amused look as they continued to trudge down the corridor towards the next door. "I guess it is kind of unusual seeing a building like this, one that's usually full up."

Nodding vigorously Adam, quickened his pace a little. "Sure is. Hey, never thought though I'd be in a place like this, I mean, the UN building. Guess all sorts goes on here." He flicked the beam from the flashlight over the ceiling and let his eyes follow the light along it and then down the long corridor.

"I guess it does," Hawkes replied slowly as the beam from his flashlight danced alongside his own. "But I bet it isn't often that there's bomb hunting going down."

He paused for a moment, as they reached the next door along, and dropped the beam of light to the floor where it shrank to a wavering circle. As Adam looked at him in the shadows, he could see the traces of fear on the Doc's face, and felt strangely reassured.

"We trying in here then?" he asked, waving a hand into the room that contained a few pieces of furniture.

Hawkes looked at him. "We're trying in here."

They stepped over the threshold.

* * *

Ensuring the final captor had been escorted from the premises, Scagnetti re-entered the library as the medics reached the door, pushing a gurney with Flack aboard. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he allowed himself half a grin as Natalia kept up a running commentary telling his fallen buddy what was happening. The grin soon vanished to join the bile in his throat as he caught sight of the discarded dressings and pool of blood on the library floor, clearly signs of triage as the medics had stabilised the detective before moving him. It reminded him of his Army days and the MASH unit he had worked with during one of his overseas tours. He breathed in deeply at the thought that Flack was not the first Detective taken to hospital that night, but kept his attention focused on the group making their way through the large oak doors.

Following the small entourage he attempted to catch Natalia's attention; he needed any information she could provide while she was still focused on what was happening. She could lapse into shock at any time which would take time to deal with.

"Miss Hunt, Natalia, I just need to ask you a few questions. I promise it will be quick.," he attracted her attention as unobtrusively as he could and taking her elbow guided her gently towards the exit and the waiting ambulances.

"Detective?" He thought she looked a little dazed, so determined to be as quick as he could.

"Scagnetti, ma'm... Can you tell me how many gunmen were in there with you?"

He caught the look of panic in her eyes, which lasted barely a few seconds. "Six... all wore ski masks, mostly handguns... I'm not sure there may have something bigger in their bags, but we didn't really get a look... They handed out bottles of water for us, but kept food to themselves."

He nodded and gave her a quick smile. "Okay, that's all good. Tell me, did you see any kind of hierarchy?" He watched as her eyes looked around; she was obviously allowing herself time to think.

She answered after a brief pause. "Two of them seemed to be in charge, Ali's number two - he was the guy that shot your detective. I think one of your SWAT guys killed him. The other, a fat guy, think his name's Dirk, he seemed to be in charge, but Ali didn't seem to always agree. The rest were pretty much doing as they were told."

"Apart from the shooting, did anyone get hurt or threatened?"

"I - I don't think so. The guard was tied up, Detective Flack-" Scagnetti noticed the anxious look over her shoulder as they loaded Flack into the ambulance. "We were kept apart from the others." He watched as she cupped her wrist with a bloody hand and rubbed the marks left by the handcuffs. "They taunted him, especially Ali, kept talking about the two missing detectives, friends of his. He goaded him." Her face hardened, and he watched her eyes fix into a steely glare which seemed to look right through him. "You know, if I'd had the chance, I would have shot him myself - he confessed to injuring the two detectives and leaving them for dead..." Scagnetti raised his eyebrows and Natalia returned his questioning look steadily. "I can see you wondering detective, I wouldn't have missed."

"Hey, Scagnetti! We've gotta go, is she coming with us?" a call came from the back of the ambulance.

"Yeah, she'll need to be checked over too," he called back taking Natalia's elbow again and leading her to the ambulance. "Natalia, they will want to collect your clothes, its normal in a case like this. You need anything, Danny Messer is going to meet you there at the hospital."

"Thank you, I understand," she said with a firm nod, although he could see the events were starting to take their toll in the pallor of her skin and the slight trembling of her hands.

Without wasting time she was helped into the ambulance, wrapped in a blanket and then a couple of uniformed officers closed the doors. The vehicle pulled out into the night, its lights flashing and horn blaring and Scagnetti turned back to the scene with a grimly determined look on his face.

* * *

"Hey, Mac!"

Reed, a duffel bag of clothes in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, caught sight of him as he turned into the waiting area and called him to alert his attention. His heart sank though at the appearance of the man who did not even lift his eyes to acknowledge him; dressed in hospital scrubs he was sitting like a sagging sack in the corner of the room, his head in his hands. A cup of coffee was on the floor beside his chair, which Reed guessed had probably long gone cold.

Hurrying over to him, Reed took the chair next to Mac and pulled it round so he was sitting in front of him, then after putting the fresh coffee on the chair on the other side of Mac and dropping the bag on the floor, he placed his hand on his shoulder and spoke forcefully. "Mac, I brought you some coffee and some clothes so you can get changed, okay? Have you heard anything yet about how Stella is?"

Mac finally drew his hands away from his face and raised his gaze to meet Reed's. "Nothing yet..." There was a pause as he then seemed to register what Reed had said and saw the bag beside him. "Thanks for the clothes, and the coffee."

"No problem," Reed gave him a brief smile as he patted his shoulder and then removed his hand. He picked up the coffee and passed it to Mac, eyeing him pointedly until he took the hint and sipped at it. On his other arm he saw the clean bandage and pointed at it. "You got your arm seen to. How is it?"

There was also a small adhesive dressing at the side of his forehead where Reed remembered seeing a nasty looking gash earlier.

Glancing at his arm, still seeming a little out of it, Mac frowned. "Fine. Got a few stitches, had it cleaned, should be fine."

"Glad to hear that," he said sincerely, and then a silence fell for a moment as he shuffled his feet whilst Mac's gaze swivelled round to the door of the waiting room. Reed sighed at the sight of the man he had come to think of as a father figure and mentor looking so beaten down. His injuries seemed to be the least of his worries though, he decided as he studied Mac without him appearing to notice. That had clearly been the case at the UN building when he had encountered him with his partner lying unconscious in his arms.

She was the one he was worried about.

More than once Reed had wondered about their relationship; from the very first time of meeting them both, when he had mistaken Stella for his mother, Claire. If there was nothing more to them than simply friends, then he would be very surprised indeed - the look of care on Mac's face as he was holding her earlier suggested that if nothing else.

The silence between them was stretching, Reed realised suddenly and he cleared his throat, knowing he had to do something to shake Mac from his brooding.

He stood up. "Go and get changed and I'll come and find you if I hear anything whilst you're gone."

The scrape of the chair legs on the tiled floor seemed to rouse Mac and he looked up. Reed lifted the bag off the floor and placed it in his lap. Mac stared down at it and then back up at him.

"Go," Reed ordered, taking the coffee out of his hands. "You can't be warm enough in those scrubs. It'll only take a minute to change."

The frown on Mac's face deepened but Reed remained steadfast until he heaved himself out of the chair, seized the bag and walked towards the door without a word. Reed watched him go and then flopped back down in the chair and stretched his legs out. In the quiet calm of the room, he faced a sudden unpleasant memory of his own time in hospital the year before, and the path he had taken that had led him there. Vaguely he remembered Mac and Stella with him, their hands over the wound on his neck and then it all faded mercifully away.

He shivered and was startled out of his memories by footsteps across the floor and he glanced up to see Mac standing in front of him, dressed in the clean and dry set of clothes on him Reed had picked out of his closet - a sweater and a pair of dark jeans.

He nodded approvingly. "Very good. Okay, you can sit back down now." A hint of a wry smile twitched Mac's mouth as he obeyed and sat with his hands pressed on his knees, and then turned a questioning look to him. Reed shook his head. "I'd have told you. Nothing yet." He passed the coffee back to him, and was satisfied to see him finish the contents.

Another silence soon fell with Mac staring at the wall and Reed wondering if he should ask him anything about Stella, and what exactly he could ask that was appropriate. Before he could frame his first question, however, a doctor entered the room and came purposefully towards them.

"Detective Taylor?" she asked glancing quickly at Reed before transferring her gaze to Mac. Standing up in a rush, he answered in the affirmative and she smiled and proceeded to tell him that Detective Bonasera had a concussion and would be kept in for observation, but she was awake and was asking for him.

Reed could not stop a broad smile crossing his face at the sight of the relief and delight on Mac's face at the last bit of information, and he had to quicken his steps to keep up with him as he followed the doctor out of the room. A short walk later and they were outside a small room with the door ajar. Reed stood behind as Mac hesitated for a moment. The interior was softly and dimly lit but the figure in the bed was clearly visible as Stella, with her hair a tangle of curls over the pillow and her face pale but brightening into a smile as she turned her head and saw who was standing there.

As Mac stepped forward, Reed patted him on the back and said quietly, "I'll catch you later. Take care and say 'hi' to Stella from me."

Pausing only momentarily to turn his head and give him a brief thanks, Mac walked over to Stella. The last thing Reed saw as he turned to walk away was his hand reaching out and clasping hers.

* * *

Both men quickly cast their eyes around the room before stepping inside too far, their beams from their flashlights bouncing off the office furniture which adorned the room. Hawkes was first to see the cabinet door wide open and then the open safe inside.

"That's not good," he muttered directing Adam's attention to the cupboard before slowly edging in its direction for a closer look. Two beams of light flickered over the empty safe - empty except for a slip of paper.

"Boom," Adam read quietly. "You think this is a trick or there really is a bomb?"

"I think we don't take anything on face value, we search every inch of this place, an open safe in a place like this can only mean one thing ... something important has been taken out of here," Hawkes replied firmly, his eyes scanning the room again as he turned around slowly.

"Wish we had more light..." Adam began as he directed his own beam of light around the room. "Uh Oh!"

"What you got Adam?"

"Over there, the vent on the wall, something look a little off to you?"

Hawkes followed his gaze and settled his eyes on the same thing Adam had seen, a red light that was flashing behind the disused heating grill.

"I'll call it in, you see if you can get a better look," he advised. "They're going to want details."

Adam crept closer and pulled out his trusted pen knife from his pocket, selected a screw driver and bent down. He studied the screws securing the vent carefully before one by one releasing them and prising the cover away, all the while trying to keep his fingers from shaking and stop himself hyperventilating. One encounter with an exploding bomb was more than enough in anyone's lifetime. He was so focused on his task he didn't hear Hawkes radio the bomb squad until the call was finished.

"Adam!" hissed Hawkes attracting his attention again. "They'll be here in five minutes, they said don't touch anything."

Adam gulped and his eyes widened in horror. "It's a bit late to tell me that" he stammered, his eyes locked on the red numbers clearly displaying a countdown. He sensed Hawkes kneel at his side to take a closer look himself.

"Then we'd better get out of here," Hawkes responded firmly but with a quaver in his voice as he stood up again. Adam was slow to follow, inspecting his knife closely, his mind whirring and a plan forming.

"I can do this, I know I can."

"Adam, we're practically on top of a bomb that can blow us to smithereens, now is not the time for a lab experiment!" Hawkes exclaimed. "There isn't just a buzzer going off, if you get it wrong, you get it really wrong! We should leave it to the professionals."

Adam glanced over his shoulder then back at the contraption wedged in the heating vent. "I can do this, I know I can, just shine your light here," he insisted.

There was a pause. "Are you sure about this?" Hawkes asked somewhat nervously.

"I cut the blue wire and everything will be good..." As he spoke, Adam slid the knife under the wire pinched between his fingers. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath and held it. "I think," he squeaked as he cut the wire.

Nothing happened.

He dared to open his eyes and breathe again. A grin spread across his face. "There told you I knew," he gloated looking at Hawkes, who had his attention focused on the red clock on the bomb.

Hawkes, however, was not looking quite so happy. "What the hell did you just do? It's still ticking!" he shouted. "Adam, we have to get out of here now!"

Feeling a bit bemused, Adam turned back to the bomb as a terrible sinking feeling hit him. "I-I can still do this," he stammered as he traced two more wires, a red one and a white one. "I got it now."

The countdown displayed less than 60 seconds.

They held their breath for the second time.

Adam sliced the red wire he was holding between his fingers.....

* * *

_I'm afraid folks that Forest is to blame for this ending too. But we hope you are enjoying the ride. Now we have a number of loose ends to tie up before the end. Real Life __has been pretty tough lately, and we need your reviews to cheer us up. Please oblige._


	25. Waiting

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful!_

_Thanks to _rebeck_ for your review, and to _afrozenheart412_ and _conche_ for further thoughts.  
_

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* * *

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Chapter 25 - Waiting

Day: 13

Opening Scene: UN Secretariat Building

Time of Day: 3am

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate (in 24 hours)

* * *

Hawkes realised he was holding his breath as Adam cut the wire, his eyes unable to stray from the red numbers on the clock that sat on top of several pounds of explosive. He wanted to turn and run, but the younger man had insisted they had to do something and he wasn't going to leave him. He could tell that he was nervous, petrified even; obviously the events of several months ago were also playing on his mind, when he had nearly been blown up by another bomb, one that there was no warning of. Another case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Time seemed to slow down, stretch and distort as Adam cut through the wire: Hawkes closed his eyes and waited for the explosion to rip through the room, taking both of them with it into forever. It seemed like forever he was waiting, but in reality, it was only a few seconds before he realised he was still alive. Opening his eyes, he saw Adam turning to him with a shocked look, which gradually gave way to almost hysterical laughter. From both of them. The numbers on the clock now stationary. The red figures glowing in the low light level, glaring at them, showed how close they had come to casting another nail in the fragile structure of the team.

HH:MM:SS

00:00:12

Hawkes finally struggled to force air into his lungs, then leaning forwards, he pressed his hands to his knees and coughed hard. The oxygen he sucked in burned in his seemingly starving lungs. He felt Adam rest a hand on his shoulder, before his quiet voice whispered in shock. "We... we made it."

Finally feeling he could start to breathe normally again, Hawkes turned his head to look up at Adam and choked out a laugh. "Yeah, we made it. You did good." They stared at each other for a moment, goofy smiles on their faces. "Now what do you say to us getting out of here and leaving this to the bomb squad?"

"Uh, yeah... good idea." Adam's shoulders sagged and he fumbled with the tool in his hands. "I've had enough of this place now."

Hawkes stood up properly and clapped him on the back, whilst reaching for his radio. As they left the room voices were heard down the corridor as the bomb squad arrived. his legs, he decided as they walked along to meet them, were only a little shaky...

* * *

Danny, still dazed after seeing his friend so grievously injured, entered the ER to find Natalia Hunt just being released by the doctors. She looked tired and her eyes were red; he wasn't sure if it was because she had rubbed them or because she had been crying. A bandage was around her left wrist and her arm in a sling, her clothes, he also noted, had been swapped for a pair of hospital scrubs. He approached her slowly.

"Miss Hunt," he waited for her to look up in his direction.

"Detective Messer?" Half confusion, half recognition seemed to define her look. Danny nodded but didn't wait for any further comment before raising the one question he desperately needed answering.

"Where's Flack?"

He noted the deep breath she drew, like she was building the energy to speak. "They took him straight to surgery... Said that he's lost a fair amount of blood and the bullet is still in him."

His next question blurted out of him before he could even think about it. "Did they say if-if he's going to make it?"

She stared at him. "They didn't... they just took him into the OR." But she seemed to read his distress as she continued. "But they did say that they'd got him here in good time. I guess that means he's got a good chance..."

Danny could say nothing in response, bombarded with memories as he was; primarily, the memory of the moment he had found Flack in the corridor of the hospital and heard him utter the two words that had pushed his friend over the edge of despair.

_"She's gone..."_

Except, as they rang in his head, they twisted and corrupted and he began to hear _he_ instead of _she_... 

_He's gone_.

_He's gone... _

Feeling his eyes sting and his throat choking up with fear, he was saved from his knees buckling by the sight of Natalia's eyes half closing as she wavered on her feet. He reached out and caught her good arm to steady her. It steadied him as well. "Are you okay?" He asked roughly and held her for a moment until he felt confident that they were both stable again.

She looked up at him. "Fine, just tired... it's been a long day," she practically whispered.

Sympathy for her was added to his burden of emotions as he nodded and sighed. "It has, it has... can't believe this has all happened. First Mac and Stella, now Flack... Shit..." Lost in the outlandishness of the situation, his thoughts swayed for a moment, and he dipped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. But Flack was not gone, neither were Mac and Stella. They would all pull through this.

Danny raised his head, and realising they were in the middle of the hospital corridor, people dodging round them, he tugged Natalia gently to one side. "Hey, listen," he said, realising that by focusing on the practical matters that needed to be resolved, he could calm hold his emotions in balance. "I called the Delegation security office and they're sending someone to take you home."

Natalia, having appeared to have regained her composure, gave him a slight frown. "Thank you, but if you don't mind, I'd like to wait until Detective Flack is out of surgery..." The frown softened, and a shyer look replaced it. "I'd kind of like to know he's going to be okay."

Danny gave his ribs a quick massage as he nodded and tried to hide a grimace of pain; the journey to the hospital had done them no favours. "Sure, did anyone say where to go?"

"Fourth floor."

"Okay, cool, " he nodded and breathed out slowly and carefully. "I just need to check up on a couple of our colleagues who came in earlier, you okay to make your own way?"

He waited for her affirmation, which came in the slight inclination of her chin. "Yes, you go and do what you need to. I hope your colleagues are all right too," she said in a low voice, and then comprehension passed across her face. "Do you mean Detective Taylor and Detective Bonasera, Mac and Stella? Flack was asking about them before - before..." Her lips pressed together and she took a moment before continuing. "He was really worried about them, the guys holding us taunted him, led him to believe they were dead... The detective who came in with the SWAT team said they were okay though?"

Danny felt anger start to scorch a hole in his fear. "Bastards..." he muttered, turning his face away from her for a moment. "Yeah, they're okay, just about," he said grimly, remembering his last glimpse of them earlier. "Pretty beat-up though..." He sighed. "Need to go break the news to them if they're up to hearing it." That he was not looking forward to, and his insides felt leaden at the prospect.

"I'm sorry," she said with sincerity.

"Yeah," Danny answered despondently, and felt there was nothing else to say.

"Well, I'll let you go, and I'll be on the fourth floor." Natalia gave him a quick smile and turned away. Danny watched her head for the elevators before moving to the reception desk to check up on Mac and Stella.

* * *

Waking abruptly from a doze, Stella's eyes flew open. The room was empty and for a moment she felt panic start to rush through her. Where was Mac? He had been with her, that was the last thing she remembered before weariness had dragged her eyelids closed unwillingly. Pushing herself up from the pillows, she looked round wildly. But her breathing calmed as she caught sight of him standing just beyond the doorway, talking to someone she could not see in a low murmur. She flopped back onto the pillows with a sigh, and a wince at the increased throbbing in her head it caused. As she massaged her temples, she felt the roughness of the dressing beneath her fingertips, and a painful flash of the reason for it being there darted through her mind.

In the last twenty-four hours she felt she had faced enough lapses in time and memory. Her most recent stretch of consciousness had begun after having woken to find herself in a hospital bed with a nurse standing over her. After finding her voice, she had asked immediately for Mac; the last thing she remembered being the two of them in a car. Beyond that, things were hazy and as she struggled to remember, her memory had tipped over into a crevasse of confusion. But she had needed at least to know that Mac was all right. The soft-spoken nurse, a middle-aged woman with a comfortable face had patted her arm and reassured her that he was fine. Shortly after that, Mac himself, tired and wan, had appeared and they had been reunited. Not much had been spoken: there was no need. His face had expressed his feelings, and all she had done was let her hand rest under his, letting him know she understood.

The door was pushed a little more open then and she turned her gaze, trying to avoid raising her head, to see Mac enter the room closely followed by a subdued looking Danny. Mac's face was grave, and she did not like what that implied.

"Hey, Danny," she began, hating that her voice sounded so croaky. "Everything all right?"

She knew even as she asked the question that it was not. Something had to have happened, something more than had happened to herself and Mac and the panic that she had suppressed minutes before began to increase. "What is it? What's happened?" she demanded, her voice stronger.

"How you doing, Stella?" Danny asked her, moving to the foot of the bed, his smile not reaching his eyes. He was still moving awkwardly, she noted, and his arms were wrapped round his chest. "How's your head feeling?"

"It's fine," she said, worry making her snap the words. "Don't avoid the question. What's happened? Mac?"

He was standing at her side, his knuckles pressed down on the side of the bed. "Mac?" she repeated and shook his wrist. It had to be bad for him to be like this, to be delaying telling her. And for Danny to look like he was...

"Lindsay," she gasped, her fingers clenching Mac's wrist. "Is she all right? Has something happened to her? Or Lucy? Oh no..." Horror flooded her at the thought of anything befalling his wife and daughter.

"Linds is fine. She's fine, Stella, so's Luce. They're both at home," Danny said quickly, trying to smile again. It failed. He glanced at Mac who sighed heavily. Emotions assailed Stella then; relief that nothing was wrong with either Lindsay or Lucy, but also fear that it meant that someone else was not fine.

"Lindsay's not hurt," Mac said in a rough voice. His hand was over hers then, and as she stared wide-eyed at him, out of the corner of her vision she was aware of Danny's head dropping onto his chest and his hand covering his eyes.

With the slight stress on Lindsay's name, Stella guessed then what they were going to tell her; someone else was hurt. Fear clutched at her and the faces of those it could be swam in front of her eyes. "Who?" she whispered. "Who is it?"

His face heavy with sorrow, Mac told her.

* * *

There was nothing worse than waiting. Natalia twisted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position for her shoulder. She had protested against the need for a sling, but the nurse who had tended to her had insisted. And if she was honest, she was grateful for it now, even though it was restricting her movements. Shifting again, she knocked her elbow by accident into the man slumped next to her. His eyes jerked open. He had been dozing, she realised, and felt guilty for disturbing him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Not good at keeping still."

His mouth turned up in the imitation of a smile. "Yeah, I know the feeling..." He breathed a sigh that seemed to have been heaved up from his boots. "I hate this; sitting, waiting, not knowing nothing."

She nodded, sympathising with the Detective. "There's got to be some news soon. We've been here a couple of hours."

Danny Messer sighed again and scuffed his heels on the floor. "Doesn't mean a thing. Could keep us waiting till the morning if they wanted to," he said cynically.

Giving him a quizzical look, she asked, "Surely it's not that bad?"

"Usually is," he grunted. "Been in hospital waiting rooms more times than I've wanted to be. Always the same, they keep you waiting for hours." A dark look dropped over his features and a question came to her lips before she could stop it.

"Who for?" Then she felt a wash of embarrassment at having been so blunt. "Sorry, that was a little rude of me, you don't have to answer that."

He was looking at her curiously. Then he gave a shrug. "Don't mind you asking, don't mind answering. My brother was in, uh, in an accident three years ago, then a colleague - don't know if you met him but he was at the UN as well - he got shot a few months back. All of us were waiting here for hours after that...." he paused and pinched the bridge of his nose, his head drooping for a moment. "And then Flack three years ago, got caught up in an explosion, it was touch and go for a while. He and Mac, wrong place, wrong time, and Flack was injured pretty bad." His gaze became distant then. "Remember me and Lindsay coming in here, finding Mac and Stella waiting for news. Two of them sitting there... We left them there, me and Lindsay, and went and just sat in the park until we heard."

"It must have been awful," Natalia said, her heart going out to him as she heard the emotions thick in his voice. "Have you known Flack a long time?"

Danny gave her a quick look and then turned his eyes away, nodding his head. "Yeah, yeah. Years. We're real good buddies. He's saved my ass more than once."

"I'm sorry," Natalia said softly as he heaved another sigh and scrubbed at his face with his hands.

"So am I. This should never have happened. Flack didn't deserve this, not after everything else he's been through the last few months," Danny muttered.

As he said that, Natalia wondered about the woman Flack had thought she was as he lay bleeding on the library floor, when he had called her Jess. She hesitated though to ask any more about who she was and what her relationship was to Flack, not wanting to cause Danny more distress. It seemed clear from what the female detective in the library had indicated that Jess, whoever she was, was dead. It was also apparent that she and Flack had been close. How close though was none of her business. If her death was recent, it might go some way to explaining his, on occasion, irascible behaviour. Natalia considered this whilst Danny stared at the floor, and the silence grew around them.

A cellphone buzzed suddenly, and he jumped out of his seat and tugged it out of his pocket. His face screwed up in discomfort at the movement; his ribs seemed to be paining him, Natalia noticed, and wondered why. He shuffled a few steps away, the phone pressed to his ear and she caught a few stray words of a hurried conversation. Whilst he talked, not wanting to eavesdrop, Natalia stared at the door. Although she was well aware that staring would not bring anyone through it any faster.

The call ended after only a minute and he eased himself back into the chair next to her. "Lindsay, my wife..." he said, putting the phone back in his pocket.

Natalia raised her eyebrows, and made the connections. "You married each other?"

That produced the first proper smile; one that was proud and happy as his face softened. "Yeah, never thought it would happen, but we've been married eight months now, got a little girl too, Lucy. Flack's real proud of being Uncle Don to her."

She couldn't help smiling back at him, but it froze as finally the door opened and a figure in a white coat approached them.

* * *

Feeling like he was almost dragging himself along the corridor, so tired was he, Danny realised he had not been to bed for more than a day. He shook his head slightly at that. It had been one of the strangest, and most harrowing days of his life. And it was still not over. There was one more thing he had to do, and then he was going home to his wife and daughter. But at least, he thought as he found a little more energy to move himself along the corridor, he had good news to deliver this time.

As he approached the door to the room Stella was in, he heard no sound of voices. He softened his footsteps and pushed the door open cautiously, peering round it. An unusual sight met his eyes; Mac was asleep in the chair next to the bed, his head pillowed on his arm which was draped over the side of the chair. A small smile lifted his lips. In contrast he saw as he glanced at the bed that Stella was awake and staring at the ceiling, even though she still looked pale and exhausted. She was lying listlessly, one arm above her head, the back of her hand resting against the pillow. Her face was set in a frown and she barely moved her eyes to look at him as he tiptoed into the room.

"Hey," he whispered. "Shouldn't you be following the Boss's example?"

"Probably," she said in a lacklustre voice. Then anxiety flared up in her eyes and she focused on him, her hand moving to push herself up a little off the bed. "You've heard about Don?"

Danny smiled, still feeling the giddiness of relief: even though there was still a long way to go, things were looking far better than they had a few hours ago. "Just heard so I came up to tell you. He's out of surgery and stable. Doc said it's looking good for him making a slow but full recovery. Takes more than a bullet to take Flack out." He watched in enjoyment the smile that lit up Stella's face.

"That's good to hear, really good," she said, her eyes sparkling. A sigh breathed out of her as she laid back and looked across to Mac who had not woken. "I'll tell him as soon as he wakes up, I'd wake him now, but it's been more than two days since he slept and I'm not going to disturb him." She gave Danny a wry look.

"Sure," he nodded and marvelled, not for the first time, at the extremity of Mac's insomnia and at the checks that Stella still kept on him, along with the knowledge she had of him. The same kind of knowledge and checks he knew Lindsay kept on and had of him.

"Thanks, Danny," Stella said still smiling, but with sleepiness now showing in her half-lidded gaze. "You heading home?"

"I am." The thought of his wife and daughter waiting for him caused a flood of warmth through him; the warmth of being loved and secure. As he thought that, he took in the sight of Mac and Stella and a small smile crept onto his lips; he was not the only one who was loved and secure. "You ought to get some sleep," he told her softly. "Otherwise they're not going to let you bust out of here."

"Oh they will, I'm good at persuading people to do what's in my best interests," Stella grinned and then covered her mouth as a yawn almost overtook her.

Danny raised his eyebrows. "Get some sleep," he ordered, still _sotto voce_. "If you're still in here tomorrow..."

"Which I don't intend to be."

"...Then me, Lindsay and Lucy'll come visit you and Flack."

Stella smiled and her eyes drifted shut, before she opened them again a sliver. "Give them my love," she murmured.

"I will. We'll see you tomorrow, Stella." He turned and tiptoed to the door, turning back briefly to see to his satisfaction that her eyes had closed and she looked to have fallen asleep. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks. At last, his friends were safe and he could go home to his family.

* * *

_Oh my goodness! No cliffhanger! All the characters have survived! Please review and ensure their continued survival :D Happy New Year to everyone (even though we're a little late) Many thanks, Lily and Forest x_


	26. Aftermath

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful!_

_Thanks__ to _ballettmaus_ and _conche_ for further thoughts, and to _Raschiavo _for being our 333rd reviewer!_

* * *

**Chapter 26 -Aftermath**

Day: 13

Opening Scene: Trinity Hospital

Time of Day: Late Evening

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate (less than 24 hours)

* * *

Stella entered the stark hospital room and stopped, the still figure of Flack lying in the bed bringing back memories of other times to assault her fragile mind. Just three years ago they had been here watching him fight for his life, then Sid had been hospitalised twice; the first time with with anaphylactic shock, the second time with radiation poisoning; then there had been Jess and Hawkes. Too much had happened, too many good people with shattered lives. She shook her head and then winced; it was still tender, unsurprising really as the doctors confirmed a concussion when they had looked at her nearly 24 hours before and insisted she be admitted.

Mac too had been patched up and had stayed with her until late morning, to her relief, getting some much-needed rest. For now though she was alone with Flack. Danny and Lindsay were spending some time with their daughter; Danny having waited long enough to hear that he had made it through surgery and to impart the news to her before going home. Of course that had left the lab short handed, but it had allowed Hawkes to step up to cover while Mac was busy dealing with the fall out from their abduction and the political storm which had followed the siege at the UN. After being called away from the hospital, meetings with people from the Chief to the Mayor had kept him busy most of the day. But he had apparently been persuaded to take a couple of hours sleep on the couch in his office, something Hawkes had insisted on, and informed her of himself by a brief phonecall.

Standing in the doorway still, she smiled at the image of Mac, even as she worried about him. He had undergone just as much trauma as she had, but he had taken the brunt of the aftermath. Confined to hospital, she had escaped all of the mayhem and that gave her a large measure of guilt. Of only small comfort was that they had given her permission to visit their friend who still remained unconscious following surgery; but at least she was able to play a part in that small way. She hated hospitals, in truth all the team did; they signified some of the worst times in people's lives and their team had spent far too much time around them. They needed a break. All of them did.

Stella considered herself fairly lucky though, Mac was going to come by after work and she was hopeful the doctors would then let her go home. One thing she knew for certain was that Mac would not contemplate letting her go home alone, after all she was still under observation for the concussion she had gained. That thought was a greater comfort to her, that she and Mac would have the reassurance of each others presence for longer.

Touching the bump on her head with cautious fingers, Stella recalled the cause of it, the guy who had hit her. News was that he had shot Flack and then been shot himself by SWAT. Earlier in the day she and Mac had formally identified them as their abductors from the photographs taken at the scene in the UN library. She was a little disappointed in that, she had wanted to be the one to take her attacker out, him and his slimy fat pal, who'd also been killed at the UN by SWAT. At least, she consoled herself, they were off the streets and would never hurt anyone ever again.

The beeps from the heart monitor slowly brought her back to the present and she returned her gaze to the frail figure in the bed. Moving into the room, she thought back to the moment of joy in the early hours of the morning when Danny had stopped by her room to impart the good news that he should make a full recovery. The relief of knowing that he would get better had been tinged with the anxious moments during the day when the Messers had dropped in expecting him to be awake, but found him still sleeping. One thing that had been different this time to the last time Flack had been in hospital was the presence of the woman who had shared his ordeal and attempted to save his life. According to Danny, Natalia Hunt had waited around until they had heard from the surgeon before finally giving in to her exhaustion and being taken home by a colleague. Stella had only met her briefly a few weeks earlier and didn't really know her, but she was grateful for her attempts at keeping their fragile team together.

There was movement from the bed, and with a quickening of her pulse and hope bubbling up inside her, Stella watched Flack closely. His eyelids were beginning to crack open and his hand twitched suddenly. Moving his dry looking lips, finally he opened his eyes and blinked and she heard him speak.

His voice was weak and hoarse; signs of the drugs and ventilation tube he'd had for a while after the surgery. With a smile that spread across her face with relief and hope, Stella pushed the memories of bad times to the back of her mind and edged forward. Standing next to his bed she took his hand, stroking the back of it and waiting for him to fully come round.

* * *

With Lucy safely asleep in her crib and likely to be so for the next few hours, Lindsay walked slowly into the living room, weariness sinking over her. Danny was sitting on the couch looking half-asleep himself.

"Hey," she said softly as she sat down and he shuffled over to make room for her before wrapping his arm around her. "How are you feeling?"

He squinted at her and she could tell he was weighing up how much truth to give her so she looked sternly at him and a sheepish look appeared in his eyes.

"Little stiff, but you know, could be worse..." he broke off with a grimace as he shifted about and adjusted a cushion behind him.

Lindsay sniffed disapprovingly. "I'm not going to argue with you anymore, Danny, nor am I going to remind you _again_ that you should not have come back into work so soon, or gone to the UN, or gone sitting in hospital chairs for hours..."

"Okay, okay point taken!" he interrupted as she paused to take a breath.

"_Danny_..." She was exasperated with him and wanted him to know she was.

"I know, babe, you only nag at me 'cause you love me and worry about me, right?" he grinned at her and his hand snaked round her waist. There was just a glimpse of insecurity there, and it melted Lindsay as she sighed and let her head drop onto his shoulder. His cheek pressed against the crown of her head and she breathed in the scent of him as her hand grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

"You've no idea how much I worry about you sometimes, Danny Messer," she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

"I do," he replied gruffly and she felt his fingers trailing through her hair. "Even though I don't always show it, I know. And I worry about _you_ as well. Seeing you heading into that library this morning, you think that was easy for me?"

Lindsay raised her head, surprised suddenly at the emotion in his voice, and feeling a surge of guilt to see the memory of fear in his eyes. "But I was fine," was all she could think to say as her eyes widened and her breath seemed to catch in her throat. "I couldn't have refused to go in, and Flack..."

"I know, I know." Danny murmured and pressed a kiss to her forehead as he drew her close. "It was just hard to let you go, after everything else had happened."

Only able to nod in response, Lindsay let herself surrender to his embrace and they were silent for a time, just breathing and holding each other. Then she pulled herself free and looked at him, her gaze searching his face. "Don'll be okay, you know that too, don't you?"

Danny heaved a sigh and his eyes closed briefly. Then he opened them and there was a glint of determination there, which relieved her to see it. "Yeah, because I'll make damn sure he's okay, even if he's got other ideas. We're not going to lose him to a bullet as well."

"No," Lindsay replied forcefully. "No we're not." She took her husband's hand in hers, let him clasp his other hand over it and rub his thumb over hers. "This has been hard," she breathed, her voice beginning to hitch. "All of this, what it's done to everyone, to Mac and Stella, to Flack, you..."

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Linds," Danny soothed, pulling her into his chest as a tear slid down her cheek unstoppably. "We're all made of tough stuff, you included, we've all survived this, maybe it's even done some good, you know?"

"Good? How could it possibly have done good?" Lindsay protested, startled as she struggled free from him and stared at him, waiting for his explanation.

Leaning back and looking carefully at her, he spoke slowly, "All I'm saying is that sometimes bad stuff kind of leads onto good stuff... Flack for instance, he was heading over the edge, drinking, cutting us all off, maybe... maybe something drastic had to happen to him to get him away from that. Maybe having someone help save his life like Natalia Hunt did is what had to happen, show him that his life's worth more than he seems to have thought it was since... since Angell died." He paused, stroking the back of her hand whilst she watched him, sympathy welling up at the insight into how he had been feeling about his friend. She had been worried about Flack as well, but she had not realised before how much it had been troubling her husband.

"Oh, Danny," she sighed.

"Not that I wanted things to happen this way, for him to get shot," he continued hastily, and despite the second tear that had slipped down her cheek, Lindsay gave a watery chuckle.

"He'll pull through this," she said in as firm a voice as she could muster. Then she asked him a little sceptically, "You think it's done anyone else any good? Other than Flack?"

A grin appeared on Danny's face. "You didn't see what I saw when I called in to tell Stella abut Flack in the early hours."

Her curiosity roused, Lindsay narrowed her eyes at him. "What did you see? You never told me you saw anything! You just said Mac was asleep when you went in the room." What he could possibly have inferred from that, she was eager to know.

"Okay, maybe not what I saw _exactly_, but more how it could be interpreted." Danny's grin widened and Lindsay raised her eyebrows. "I'm just thinking that the Boss and Stella seemed to have gotten even closer since yesterday, and maybe this will have made them think about a few things, including each other."

Lindsay nodded thoughtfully, and the image of the two of them when they had appeared at the UN floated back into her mind; how Mac had kept his arm round Stella, the concern for each other that had been so obvious. "They deserve some happiness," she said with a sigh. Then as a thought struck her, she pursed her lips and faced Danny, knowing she needed to be strict with him. "However, whether or not there's anything going on between _our bosses_, you are _not_ to go speculating with Flack or anyone else, you hear me?"

"I hear you."

From the slightly crushed look on his face, she realised she had not been far off her guess at what he had in mind, although she doubted that he would necessarily heed what she said. Maybe she ought to give Stella a discreet warning, without being too intrusive. Although she considered her a friend, discussing Stella's personal life to the extent of probing into her feelings for Mac was not something she was prepared or willing to do. She knew for certain though that neither Stella nor Mac would appreciate Danny discussing them with anyone else, and she kept a glare fixed on him as she stood up and pulled him to his feet with her. However, she had an idea how to distract him. "Come on, it's been another long day, and you and me are going to bed. Our daughter is fast asleep and I think we should take advantage of that..."

Pulling her flush against him, Danny's smile pressed against her lips and his hands trailed down her back, sending a pleasant shiver through her. "Sounds like a plan to me," he rumbled.

"...and get a good night's sleep," she smirked at the sight of his face falling, but relented as she drew him on towards the bedroom and allowed her hand to slip below his waist and give him a gentle squeeze. "But I guess a little cuddling wouldn't hurt."

His face brightened. "Lead the way..."

* * *

Flack blinked a few times, trying to clear his fuzzy head and focus on his surroundings, surroundings that he'd caught only a quick glimpse of until now. Dark curly hair, soft voice, even in his drug induced state he would recognise her anywhere. Stella. His mind raced over what he could remember before everything went black. Had Jess really been there with him? Was Stella really here now? Maybe this was it, maybe he'd died too and now they were both taking care of him...

"Stell?" he croaked, shocked by the sound of his voice, barely audible as it was above the beeps echoing around him. Licking parched lips, he creased his forehead, squinting for a better look at where he was. "Where are we?"

"Trinity Hospital, we've both had a run in with things we shouldn't," she answered, a light tone to her voice that didn't quite fit with her expression.

Finally his focus started to clear, the room and the woman standing next to him clarified in his awareness and reality began to bite. Very clearly, he could see the nasty bruise and band-aid on Stella's temple. It caused a frown and pieces of the events at the UN library clicked into place; memories of the taunts their captors had used. Wrapping his fingers round hers he studied her as closely as he could. "Do I look as bad as you?" he asked trying to sit up, but was stopped as she placed her hand on his shoulder, which he was thankful for when just moving those few inches seemed to send a slice of pain right through him. He almost choked on the agonised cry which rose in his throat.

"Easy there. You were shot. Had us all worried for a bit. Doctors say you're going to be fine, maybe a few new scars, but you should be fit to go home in about a week," she said gently. "And I don't look as bad as all that, so neither do you."

Still struggling to catch his breath from the pain, Flack managed to gasp, "So I'm still here?"

"God's grand plan for you obviously still has to come to fruition." A wry smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Some plan," Flack muttered and sighed heavily as his mind revealed the picture of Jess he had been tormented with earlier.

"Why's that?" she asked softly.

He closed his eyes to hide the tears forming, how could she not know? He didn't want to talk about it, he _couldn't_ talk about it, how could everything be so damned hard? Feeling tears threaten to seep through his eyelids, he raised his hand to rub his face, but felt more pain shoot through his head as he touched his cheek, then he remembered the butt of the gun landing in his face. He must look pretty bad himself. For a few seconds, he forgot that there was anyone else there, then Stella's voice broke through the cobwebs in his head.

"Don? Why would you think that it was God's plan for this to be your time?" He couldn't be sure, but she seemed concerned.

Struggling to find the right words, he breathed in turgidly before answering. "It's... it's too hard, Stell... I can't do this anymore... nothing's the same since-" He stopped, he couldn't even say her name without the overwhelming grief and guilt over his actions the day she died; luckily Stella didn't ask him to explain any more, she seemed to realise what was on his mind as understanding passed across her face.

"Don we all loved Jess, I know it's been a tough few months, but none of us could stand to lose you too." She squeezed his hand and sat herself down on the chair at the side of the bed.

"So you're really here? We're not dead?" Even though he felt foolish, he asked again turning his head to see the machines at his side. His reality still did not feel entirely sure of itself yet.

Giving him a look of curiosity mixed with amused concern, Stella patted his hand. "Don, I am really here, trust me on that much. And neither of us are dead..." A fleeting smirk quirked her mouth. "I'd have told you otherwise. Maybe a little knocked about, but definitely not dead."

He felt a mixture of anger and relief; he had seen the team almost disintegrate with Mac and Stella missing. The loss of any one of the team would likely have broken them all apart. But then again he mused, as a darker thought crept insidiously through him, maybe after what he had done to her killer, some might consider that justice would have been served if he had died. His eyes closed again, sending him falling down into the realms of night.

"Don, what are you thinking?" Her voice interrupted his descent. Stella knew him too well, she knew he was moping, just like she had known and tried to help him for the last four months. He saw the look she gave him as he forced his eyes open again, dizzy with his emotions. "How much do you remember of what happened the last few days?" she asked, worry clouding her features.

He turned his eyes to the wall for a moment to sort through the jumbled images fighting for dominance in his mind. Then he let out a breath and opened them again. "The UN, hostages ... it's all fuzzy... are the hostages safe?"

She nodded. "All fine, even the security guard, so Danny said. One's recovering from a shot in the leg, and a couple were brought in for checks, but most got to go home last night."

It pulled a sigh of relief from him. "Good, that's good..." They were silent for a moment, both thinking, until more questions came to Flack. "Stell, what happened to you and Mac? They said you were dead." She was gazing wistfully around the room so he tugged gently on her hand drawing her attention back to him.

Her mouth tightened in displeasure as she answered him. "Hoax call that went from bad to worse. Ended up in a collapsing building on the West Side, but we made it out and got to the UN as the shooting started, so I'm told."

"Told? Don't you remember?" he asked checking out the bruise on her face again and wondering what she and Mac had been through.

Curiously, Stella looked a touch uncomfortable as she replied, "As you can see, I got a knock to the head along the way. Last thing I remember before waking up in here is hotwiring a car after we escaped the place we'd been held in..."

Flack felt a grin spread across his face; surely that wasn't embarrassment on Stella's face? The look on Mac's face that he could imagine on witnessing his partner's illegal activity lifted his spirits.

"You, hotwire a car? Where d'you learn that trick?"

"I'm a cop Don, think I'd give up a source?" She gave him a piercing look, but there was laughter sparkling in her eyes. "Now back to you, isn't there someone else you want to ask about?"

Someone else? Flack felt tired again, nothing would solidify into a proper memory, only fleeting images dancing just out of reach to be tangible. But there had been someone else, if only he could remember... He shifted his weight a little to get comfortable and felt the stab of pain in his side again, so he moved his right hand and lay it on top of the covers over the wound. Had he been imagining things or was it real, was she real? Blue eyes full of tears, a look of anguish on her face as she tried to focus his attention... Jess, no, he hadn't seen it at the time, but now he realised - the other woman who had been with him was blonde. He barely remembered her though, fluctuating images and words kept her identity just out of his reach. She had stayed with him, he remembered that... or had that been Jess? He knew he wanted it to be Jess, but he knew now it had been his mind playing tricks.

_"__I'm whoever the hell you want me to be if it's going to keep you alive until you get to the hospital!"_ She had been cross with him, he felt his mouth curl into a smile at the one solid memory he had, that he finally had her scared of him...

Stella's voice echoed round him, "Don? Hey, listen it doesn't matter, you need time to rest. I'll let you sleep a bit, I'll call the others and tell them you're awake." She rested her hand on his shoulder again for a moment and then stood up to go. Don watched the light shine like a halo around her and suddenly a few things fell into place as he stared. The name and the face he had been searching for lit up in his mind.

".... Natalia? Is she okay? Did they hurt her?" he asked, afraid of the answer he might get; they may have started out on bad terms, but being cuffed to someone for a few hours had given him time for thought, he knew for certain he didn't want her to have been hurt.

Stella smiled at him, looking relieved. Obviously he had been trying to remember for longer than he realised and he must have drifted. "No, she's fine. Mac spoke to her a few hours ago, she's been recalled to London for a debrief, flew out about an hour ago. They're also holding Michael Stratton's funeral while she's there..." A stern look came into Stella's eyes, which masked further concern. And he wondered then just how much danger his life had been in. "You owe her you know, she saved your life."

"Why?" He didn't know what answer he hoped to get by that question, or why he'd even asked it, nevertheless, it jerked out before he could stop it.

Stella looked puzzled briefly. "Why? Why wouldn't she, Don? But if you really have to ask that, maybe you'll have to ask her yourself one day, Danny said she seemed really worried about you. Wouldn't let you go until EMS got you here."

He remembered his rash action when he almost dislocated her shoulder, he needed to know she was alright, but first he needed to know something.

"Messer was here?"

"Yeah, he came over from the UN after the seige, sat down the hall waiting for news, keeping the rest of us in the loop about how you were doing, and he and Lindsay came to visit a few hours ago, they wanted to see you, but you weren't awake then. But they filled me in on a few other things, like you being cuffed to Natalia Hunt." He couldn't miss the grin she gave him and he groaned inwardly. Great. That was all he needed was to be the butt of everyone's jokes now, that he'd got himself strung up with his own cuffs and with Natalia of all people. With a rush of shame, Flack realised that he had made it very clear to most of his colleagues, including the CSIs, that he was less than enamoured with the British Liaison Officer.

Feeling uncomfortable inside and out, he tried to move, only to feel more pain shoot through his side causing him to bite back a hiss. He couldn't even remember how he had got shot, but he could remember the vulnerable look in Natalia's eyes after she had put herself between him and that creep Ali. He had seen the tears pool in her eyes before she had turned away. He felt his stomach churn and his head start to pound, he wasn't sure if it was his injury or something deeper, more emotional, but he needed to know he hadn't caused her any further harm.

"She's really okay?" he asked tentatively, preparing himself for the guilt trip to reassert itself.

"So I've been told... by Danny again. He's been told to stay at home and take care of himself, he nearly bust his ribs coming back to work like he did," Stella said, looking disapproving. But it faded to a smile as she continued. "He and Lindsay brought Lucy earlier, you know it's been a few weeks since I saw her and I swear she's gotten bigger!" Don felt a small grin cross his face at the mention of his best friend's daughter. She had been the one bright spark in a miserable year. Stella leaned forward a little as she continued, revelling in what she was about to tell him next. "They also told me that Hawkes and Adam defused a bomb in the Secretariat building."

It stirred surprise in him; the thought of the Doc and Ross and a bomb. There was something bordering on the absurd with that image. Wanting to say something smart back, Don felt himself nod, but at the same time her words were starting to sound like a foreign language. He closed his eyes for a moment, and Stella noticed his distraction as she squeezed his hand gently. "You need to get some rest. I'll be back later, you want anything before then, I'm not far."

No, she couldn't go yet, he didn't want to be left alone, and he still needed to be certain of more. Forcing his eyes open he looked up at her. "Stell, you and Mac really okay too?" He asked the frown fixed on his face again as he assessed her appearance and casual dress; a pair of jeans and a strappy top. Was it wrong for him to think that despite what she had gone through she still looked a beautiful woman? He knew Mac cared deeply for her and only hoped that he would act on his feelings whilst he had the chance. Knowing his friends were happy would give him some easing of his sorrow.

He realised he had phased out again as Stella seemed to be waiting for him to refocus before speaking. "We're a bit banged up but we'll be okay," she said firmly and he was reassured that she was speaking the truth. "Hopefully Mac will bust me out of here soon and we can go home."

Her use of 'we' registered and caused him to quirk his eyebrow before his eyelids started to drop. "Make sure he takes good care of you," he murmured.

"I'm sure he will," Stella replied with a slight smile as she turned and left the room. Contented with her words, he drifted into a hazy sleep.

* * *

_No cliffhanger again! But we hope you enjoyed the chapter anyway :D Please review - let us know if you'd like a few more cliffies! Many thanks, Lily and Forest x_


	27. Bouncing Back

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 (and parts of 6x01 :p) wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read, and especially to all who reviewed, it's much appreciated! Thank you for alerts and favourites also. Please continue to let us know what you think of the story, feedback is wonderful!_

**Chapter 27 – Bouncing Back**

Day: 14

Opening Scene: Crime Lab

Time of Day: Afternoon

Month: Mid September

Forthcoming Events: UN General Assembly & General Debate Opens

* * *

Mac found Hawkes processing items from the office at the UN where the bomb had been planted. He had just finished running analysis on the explosive compound.

"Hey Hawkes, I just got off the phone with Stella," Mac announced entering the room.

"How're she and Flack doing?" Hawkes looked up as he spoke, his natural doctor's instincts kicking in, asking about the reluctant patients.

"Good, Stella's hounding the doctors to go home, she's bored; Flack's making progress but is still pretty doped up and sleeping a lot; she did say he was checking up again on everyone else when he was awake earlier though," Mac informed him, drawing to a stop by the counter which was littered with items from the UN scenes and inspecting them as they spoke.

"Must be a good sign then, although I bet that didn't include Natalia Hunt," Hawkes jibed, an amused look crossing his face. Mac smirked a little in response, the strained relationship between the detective and the diplomat had been the subject of a few conversations on this case.

"Actually it did. He seemed quite concerned about her last night as a matter of fact, according to Stella."

"Last night, could've been the drugs talking," Hawkes responded lightly. "You met her more than the rest of us, what's your view?"

"She doesn't strike me as one to put up with anyone pushing her around, seems pretty grounded, she'll be okay."

"Which kind of brings me to Stella ... you heading over to bust her out then?"

"After a trip to meet the commissioner," Mac half sighed; he had wanted to go earlier, but you didn't deny an audience with the commissioner to answer questions about the sanctity of Diplomacy being put in turmoil hours before the world heads of government met at the UN.

Hawkes inclined his head sympathetically. "I hear Lindsay and Danny were dropping by again to visit both of them, so perhaps she'll have some distraction. She's tough Mac, the fact she's bored says our Stella's bouncing back." Despite his light-hearted words, Mac, however, noted the sombre look on the doctor's face as he scrubbed his hand over his head.

"Everything all right?" he asked, knowing something was bothering the other man.

"It's Flack, he's had a tough time lately, losing Angell, almost getting killed in a shoot out after her killer, the bar, now this... he's got a lot on his plate, I've got to admit, I'm worried."

"Sheldon, you've got to remember you were affected by all that too, you're still recovering, we all are, but that's where we're going to win. This team is as strong as any one I've worked with, we'll survive, we always do."

Mac surveyed Hawkes as he sighed. "I know, I know... it just seems a long way off right now..." Then gathering himself together, he gave a quick smile and changed the subject. "So how is Natalia Hunt? I heard she spent the night at the hospital with Danny waiting for news?"

"She did. She flew out to London last night, she'll be back in about a week, she called me earlier, asked me to convey the family's thanks for stopping the men who killed Michael Stratton."

Hawkes nodded. "Good to know."

Then he moved to retrieve a printout of the test results and their moment of chatter was gone, replaced by their focus on their work.

"What have you got here, anything useful?" Mac asked.

"Not a whole lot." He shook his head. "Explosive is confirmed as dynamite, which is what we suspected, however the chemical makeup is nothing special and this stuff is found on any site where demolition is involved. So no way to trace where it may have come from, however I did get confirmation from Sid of our perps IDs; Ali Mansour, US citizen of Middle East Immigrant parents, a lot of arrests but never any charges, somehow always seemed to slip the net; the other guy is Dirk Tanner, a string of aliases according to Scagnetti and he's done two tours in Rikers." As Hawkes spoke he went to the computer and with a few brief key taps, images of their two dead hostage takers appeared on a large screen, along with their police records.

Mac nodded in acknowledgement, their mug shots making the fleeting recollections he had of them seem more haunting as their menacing looks stared back at him. "Any known associates?" Absently, he rubbed at his arm; the pain from his injury still making itself felt.

"Nothing so far, but Tanner did bunk for a while with a Carson Blake and they were released about the same time five years ago, both seem to have been pretty clean since then. Scagnetti's boys are trying to run him down," Hawkes answered as he added Blake's picture and details to those already up before wandering around the room to the next item to be analysed.

"Are we getting anything else of any off this?" Mac asked waving his hand at the numerous items spread over the table.

"Nothing yet, we're still working on it. Adam just went to grab some food." He grinned suddenly. "Think he's afraid of wasting away or something."

Mac felt a smile lift the corners of his mouth. "I suggest when he comes back you both eat and wrap up for today, it'll still be here tomorrow and maybe we'll be able to ask Blake a few questions. I'm just off to see the commissioner, then I'll collect Stella and drop in on Flack. Call me if anything else comes up."

"You know I will. Give Stella and Flack my best wishes and tell Flack I'll drop by later to check up on him." Mac was already making his way to the door, but paused and turned back; fixing Hawkes with a firm stare.

"I will ... and Sheldon, if I've been too pre-occupied to say, you and Adam did a good job with the bomb."

Hawkes nodded. "Make sure you get some rest too, take some time to recover yourself." He added as a parting shot as Mac disappeared from the room. Unsure if he'd been heard he grabbed his phone and sent a warning text to Stella. There was no reason they couldn't look after each other.

* * *

"Hey, Stella," Lindsay stepped into the small hospital room and was met with the sight of her co-worker sitting cross-legged on the bed, a paperback book in her hands. It appeared not to be of interest, however, as Stella's gaze was currently focused on the view outside the window and the book was in danger of slipping from her fingers. But at the sound of her voice, her attention was caught; she turned and a broad smile broke across her face, shining in her eyes when she saw who Lindsay had with her.

"Lindsay! And Lucy! Hey there sweetie, I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon." Stella, after giving Lindsay a questioning look, held her arms out for the little girl who was looking a little perplexed at her new surroundings, but happy enough to be passed to her surrogate aunt after Lindsay unstrapped her from her car seat. The decision to make the visit had been made earlier, after she had heard that Stella had been kept in for observation longer than she had been expecting. Something she had been disgruntled about, according to Mac. It had been further compounded when he had been summoned to a meeting with the Commissioner over the previous night's events.

"I just figured you might be a little bored, and seeing as I had some time to spare, I thought we'd come and see you again," Lindsay smiled and made herself comfortable at the foot of the bed as Stella cuddled Lucy and murmured sweet nothings to her. Lucy seemed contented to be admired and adored, offering chuckles and blowing raspberries which clearly delighted both herself and Stella.

"Thank you," Stella said, her eyes bright. "I appreciate it; a girl could go stir-crazy in this place."

"Danny's latest action thriller not grabbing your attention then?" Lindsay asked slyly, referring to the book that her husband had lent to her the day before when they had visited.

Stella grimaced as she placed the book on the bedside table. "Not especially... but don't tell him that, I don't want to hurt his feelings."

"Oh trust me, he's not easily offended, but I promise not to say anything. I'm sure if you pass it to Flack, he'd be happy to read it," Lindsay grinned. "How is he? Have you seen him today? Danny's gone to check up on him while I'm here."

"I dropped by earlier," Stella replied. "He was doing okay, a little brighter than yesterday, but I didn't stay for long. He looked pretty tired."

Lindsay nodded, glad to hear of his satisfactory progress as she leaned over to Lucy and dabbed at her dribbles with a kleenex, not wanting any to be transferred to Stella's clothes, even though she knew she would not complain if that happened. Her own pockets and purse seemed these days to be filled with baby paraphernalia, but that was something _she_ would not complain about. Once Lucy was satisfactorily cleaned up, she rested back with one hand behind her and asked, "So how are _you_ feeling?" As she studied Stella, she decided that other than the bruising and the injury at the side of her head, she looked remarkably well. Certainly better than when she and Mac had materialised, seemingly from nowhere, outside the UN. That she looked well, Lindsay was glad to see; her collapse the night before last had worried her. Especially as Stella was someone who seemed to be almost invincible at times.

"I'm doing good," Stella answered, still occupied with Lucy, as she glanced quickly at Lindsay to answer her and then back to the little girl, addressing her as she continued. "And your Uncle Mac is going to be here very soon to get me out of here, yes he is!" Lucy giggled and tried to push her fist into her mouth as Stella grinned at her. Then she looked up again at Lindsay. "I've had more than enough of being in here, so he's promised to come pick me up, now I'm finally allowed to leave."

Lindsay kept her smile bland but her mind was racing with questions she wanted to ask; foremost being where Mac was going to take her - either to her own apartment or to his. She hoped it was the latter; though whichever it was, she would be content to know that they were remaining in each other's company. All she said was, "I'm glad you're going to be getting out of here, as long as you're going to take it easy for at least a couple of days, you and Mac both, even though he's somehow managed to talk his way back to work."

A frustrated look passed over Stella's face at her last words. "He had it as bad as I did, you know, Lindsay; we were both attacked, both abducted, and he must have had a higher dose of whatever was used to knock us out, seeing as I woke up first, and somewhere along the way he injured his arm as well. But he seems to have forgotten about that..." Absently patting Lucy's back, Stella frowned and Lindsay saw once again the care and concern that she had for her long-time partner. She wondered if Mac knew how much interest Stella took in his welfare, and judged that he probably did. He took the same interest in hers, though less overtly. Still, there had been his impromptu trip to Greece...

"But I think that's how Mac copes with things," she said finally, aware that she was likely to be telling Stella nothing she didn't know already. "I guess he needs to know that whoever did this to the both of you and to Flack have justice served on them. And I think he kind of forgot about himself and that he had been injured after you collapsed... I've never seen him so worried," she added seriously, the memory still too vivid in her mind. "I think he just kept himself going so he could make sure you were all right."

A faint flush had appeared in Stella's face at her words, and she seemed unable to meet her eyes. Reaching out to play with Lucy's fingers, Lindsay felt anxious that she had spoken about too much.

Then Stella sighed and shifted Lucy in her arms so she could see her mother. "Believe me, I know; I know how he focuses on his work, but I don't want to see that at the expense of his health, and I don't want him worrying about me. I don't _need_ him to do that." Her forehead set in a stubborn crease.

"Then maybe you need to persuade him to take a little time away from work after he picks you up?" Lindsay suggested, a smile toying with the corners of her mouth. Lucy was settled in her Aunt's lap, facing outwards and clapping her hands, and she grinned at the sight. Obviously her daughter approved of the idea.

"You know, maybe I will. Though Mac is not the easiest person to persuade..." Stella's face relaxed a little as she spoke.

"I'm sure you're more than capable of it, Stella," Lindsay said as she chucked Lucy under the chin. "Mac listens to you more than he does to anyone."

There was a pause and Stella looked a little rueful before she answered. "Not always he doesn't... But I guess I don't always listen to him either."

In response to that comment, Lindsay could think of nothing to say, it going beyond her usual conversations with Stella, but again she wondered; this time at what had led to Stella making the comment. She, however, had turned her focus back to Lucy who was babbling happily, pleased to be in the company she was, and so for a little while the two women indulged and entertained her.

While Lindsay was concentrating on tickling Lucy's tummy, the cautious opening of the door barely registered in her hearing. The sound of it creaking made her turn her head sharply. Stella also looked up, wide-eyed in alarm, before her face softened at the sight of him.

"Sorry..." Mac began as he slipped into the room, his eyes on Stella, concern visible in them. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine, Mac," she said, smiling. "Guess I'm just kind of jumpy at the moment. Come on in and say hello to your goddaughter, she's been entertaining us."

For the next few minutes, Lindsay allowed herself to sit back and enjoy the sight of Mac and Stella fussing over Lucy; the glances and touches between the two adults not passing unnoticed. After entering the room, Mac had sat himself on the edge of the bed, moving gradually closer to Stella without seeming to realise it, until their shoulders were touching. She smiled to herself, even as she sighed inwardly. There were not two more people she knew, other than herself and Danny, who were so at ease and so happy in each other's company. Maybe what Danny had said the night before was true; maybe it did take near-disaster for happiness to be found. She certainly hoped it was the case for them.

Too soon for Lucy's Aunt and Uncle it seemed, it was time for her to be taken home for a nap. Judging by the disappointment on their faces, Mac and Stella would have been happy to have played with her all afternoon.

"You can, of course, always come over and change a few diapers," Lindsay offered with a smirk as Stella claimed that they had hardly been there any time at all.

"I'm happy to take on diaper duty anytime if it means spending time with my favourite little girl," Stella grinned, and glanced up at Mac with a glint in her eye. "I'll bring Mac along to assist."

Mac simply raised an eyebrow, and Lindsay laughed. "I'll spare you it for now, but you know you're both welcome to come visit her whenever you can."

"Thanks, Lindsay," Stella said as she handed Lucy over, a little reluctantly. "We'll do that."  
Again, Lindsay smiled to herself; this time at Stella's unconscious answering for herself and Mac, something Mac did not seem to mind at all. It took a few moments for her to replace Lucy in her car seat and then they were ready to depart. As she stood in the doorway, she smiled at them both. "I'll let you both get ready to leave, as I'm sure you don't want to spend a minute longer here than necessary, Stella."

"You bet I don't!" she said fervently, as she moved herself off the bed. "Thanks again, Lindsay, it was great to see you both."

"My pleasure, I'll see you again soon, take it easy."

"We will," Stella grinned, no doubt in remembrance of their earlier conversation. As Lindsay heaved Lucy out of the door and along the corridor, she was satisfied to hear the sound of Stella beginning to tell Mac that he was taking the afternoon off. Maybe good was coming out of their troubles after all.

* * *

Having worked on for a few more hours after Mac had left the lab, Hawkes and Adam had finally given into their exhaustion and packed up. Leaving the building together they had decided to make the most of the pleasant evening and walk the few blocks to a bar the team regularly frequented, opting for bar food and maybe a game of pool before heading home for a good night's sleep.

They were sitting in a booth talking over the case and recent events when they were approached by an elegant middle-aged woman, her hair cut in a stylish short bob and her clothes cut expensively simply. Adam did not recognise her, but Hawkes stood and invited her to take a seat, delighted to see her. After introductions had been made, Mrs Hammerback settled herself next to Adam and beamed at the two men.

"You're looking very elegant this evening Mrs H," Hawkes said courteously, but with a hint of familiarity by not using her full title. "Have you lost your husband?"

She smiled and waved an immaculately manicured hand in the direction of the bar. "Oh no dear, Sidney's at the bar. He'll find us in a moment."

A moment later, true to his wife's word, the man himself arrived at the table and deposited two glasses on the table. Adam eyed them a little sceptically, which didn't go unnoticed by Sid. "They won't bite Adam; do you youngsters nowadays not drink real liquor?"

Adam stumbled over an answer and then sought refuge in sipping at his beer. Hawkes chuckled. "It must be a special occasion if you two are all gussied up," he commented, noting the suit and tie the ME was wearing, complementing well his wife's dressy attire.

The two older people smiled at each other, and Mrs Hammerback clasped her husband's hand. "An early anniversary treat; the Russian ballet are in town and Iris can't resist Coppelia," Sid replied with a loving look at his wife.

"It's true," replied Iris Hammerback smiling back at her husband. "I first saw it when I was in Europe with my parents as a little girl and I've loved it ever since."

"Then I hope you have a wonderful evening," Hawkes said. "And nice of you to join us on the way."

Sid nodded. "So how is everyone? I hear Mac was collecting Stella from the hospital?" he asked, clearly wanting to catch up on things before they left.

"They should be home by now, he was going to see her after a trip to the Commissioner's Office," Hawkes replied.

"How is she? Sidney said she had rather a nasty bang to the head," Mrs Hammerback questioned.

"She'll be fine, the bruises will take a while to heal, but she's had some rest and a few days off work won't do her any harm," Hawkes said with a small smile, knowing that Stella herself might well disagree with him about that statement.

Mrs Hammerback frowned in sympathy. "Perhaps I'll call and arrange to see her tomorrow; she must be bored, an active woman like that."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate that very much," Sid agreed. "You and she seemed to get on well last summer when you met at our garden party. However," he added with a grin, "I suspect that Mac might well be visiting as well." He then patted her hand, addressing her before turning to Hawkes and Adam. "Excuse me for talking business for a while my dear, but I must tell these gentlemen about the autopsy, seeing as they've been too busy to come and see me."

Adam looked a little green and looked down at the table, starting to pick at a beer mat. He didn't particularly like the morgue and avoided mutilated bodies as much as possible, although he was having to grow a hardened stomach as Mac was sending him into the field more often.

"I can see you're dying to let us know about it, so go ahead Sid," Hawkes replied, after throwing Adam a quick look of amused sympathy and hunching over the table to listen. "You got something that's going to shock us?

A serious look appeared in the ME's eye. "Had I been a man with fewer principles and morals, then the bodies of those two criminals may well not have had any respect at all. As you know, I always maintain the dignity of the dead, regardless of what they have done in life, however, I was as sorely tempted as I have ever been to disregard that respect in the case of these men." He leaned back, bracing his arms on the table, and Hawkes saw a genuinely troubled expression in his face. "Much as I hated myself for it, I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd have liked to have done to them had they still been alive. And what I wanted to do to their dead bodies, for all the pain and suffering they have inflicted on everyone. As it was, all I could do was try and keep my emotions in check and get as many answers from them as I could." Taking off his glasses to polish them on his sleeve, glasses that Hawkes noted were an entirely different pair from the ones he wore in the morgue, he sighed heavily. His wife squeezed his arm tightly; giving her a brief glance of thanks he continued, "I guess all we can be thankful for is that they aren't able to hurt anyone any more. They're safely locked away for eternity."

Silence fell as Sid finished speaking and hung in memory over them as they all took a minute with their thoughts. It was Adam who broke it, clearing his throat and raising his beer bottle as he glanced in turn at his companions. "Well, seems now might be a good moment to, uh, to raise a glass to all of us, for surviving this whole thing."

Hawkes grinned at him, as did Mrs Hammerback, and Sid lost the melancholy from his demeanour. "Sounds like a good idea to me."

All four of them raised their glasses to absent friends and colleagues.

* * *

In a corner of the globe far removed from New York City, two people paused at the entrance to a small shop that had hidden itself furtively down a narrow alleyway. One of them, a man dressed in a light suit, carried with care a bag that seemed to contain something weighty. His companion, a woman with eyes that darted around the alleyway, stood a little in front of the man. After seeming to satisfy herself that no one was observing them, she knocked twice on the door. It opened and an unseen figure beckoned them in.

"After you, Deena my dear," the man said, his hand on her back as they stepped through into the gloom of the interior. The door closed behind them.

* * *

_AN: Sorry for the long delay on this chapter, it has been a pretty crazy month in RL for us. Hopefully we won't keep you waiting so long for the next one, which looks like it could be the final chapter for this story, your reviews as always will keep us motivated. _

_Please also remember our individual works, Lily has been updating "... Old West" and a new chapter of Forest's "Beacons of Home" should be up soon._


	28. Victory

_Disclaimer: We don't own CSI:NY, if we did 5x25 wouldn't have happened. It did, however, so we are playing with the cards we have been dealt._

_Thanks to Rebeck for the review. Sorry we can't reply in person. Thanks also to Ballettmaus for her assistance.  
_

**Chapter 28 - Victory**

Day: 52 - a month after the events at the UN

Opening Scene: Crime lab

Time of Day: Morning

Month: Mid October

Forthcoming Events: Halloween

* * *

The balmy September weather had stretched into October, throwing the last rays of the summer sun across the city. A little more than a month had passed since the UN siege: Stella and Mac had eventually conceded to doctors' orders and taken a few days off, and now they and Danny were fully fit and working again; Flack had spent nearly two weeks in the hospital but was now discharged and recuperating. After the traumatic events of the previous months, it felt at last as if everything was returning to normal.

As they walked into the lab together, Stella was aware of Mac's hand on her back, an almost unconscious touch from him, but one she was happy to have become used to in the last few weeks. She smiled to herself, and turned to meet his gaze, her eyes bright. Since she had been released from hospital, Mac and she had spent more time together than they had in a long time; their relationship progressing naturally with each day. The short, but still welcome absence they had allowed themselves from work, with a little encouragement from Hawkes, had simply involved time together. That time that had been filled with pleasure, spending it as they had done in talking, sharing domestic duties and enjoying being in the company of each other. Their work relationship had continued much the same as it always had, but with a few more shared glances and smiles, and touches such as they were experiencing now. With no one else in sight, Stella tilted her head and gave Mac a soft kiss before they parted at the door to his office, letting her hand linger in his for a moment.

A smile touched his mouth as he squeezed her fingers. "If we've time later, how about coffee?"

"Sounds good to me," she said, her gaze warm, welcoming the offer and looking forward to it already, as was he. "And don't forget dinner this evening."

"Of course not," he said. "You'd never forgive me if I did."

"I wouldn't let you forget," she said, eyeing him keenly, a grin flirting on her lips.

With a last look, their hands parted and they walked their separate ways, their minds still with each other.

* * *

As he ambled along the sidewalk, Flack saw Natalia emerge from the building. She paused for a moment to breathe in the slight breeze that greeted her, for which he was grateful; he wasn't sure if he would have been able to catch her if she had moved off straight away. Although well on the way to recovery, his movements were not as fast as he would like.

"What? No bike?" he called stepping up behind her, her surprise obvious as she turned to face him.

"Annual service. I should be able to pick it up tomorrow," she replied, while turning her head to check the street for an empty cab. "I've been working late nights and can't face the walk so I figured I'd treat myself to a cab ride, that way I might actually get to email my parents and let them know I'm still alive, eat a proper meal and get some sleep."

He shook his head a little and grinned at her as he slid his right hand under his jacket supporting his side. "So you're going home to spend the evening emailing your parents?"

"That's part of the plan," she answered stepping towards the kerb and raising her arm to flag a passing cab, which sailed past.

Flack reached up and drew her arm down. "I think I could make you a better offer."

She drew her eyes from the traffic and turned her head. He saw a strange look flash across her face, a mixture of surprise and confusion, or at least that's what he thought it was. Their faces were merely inches apart as she responded. "Really?"

"Yeah... you and me someplace quiet. You in?" He fixed her with a gaze and noted that fleeting expression cross her face again.

"Maybe... What do you have in mind?" Something was having an effect he realised as she stepped back and focused on the traffic again. He wasn't going to make this easy for her, he wasn't making it easy on himself either and the last place he wanted to hold a conversation was the middle of the street. He pressed his hand further into his burning side; he needed to sit down soon, but not before he achieved what he set out to do.

While her attention was distracted, he leaned forward, his mouth close to her ear "Would you like to find out?"

Without even blinking she answered. "I guess that all depends."

"On?"

"You, most of our previous meetings have been rather disastrous." She turned to look at him again. Damn her if she didn't have that cool exterior back in place, making him the one uncomfortable once again. There was no malice in her voice, but he couldn't argue with the truth of her words. He rubbed his hand over his face; this encounter wasn't exactly working out how he envisaged, she was an enigma - just as he was figuring her out, things changed again.

Flack heaved a sigh. "Yeah, about that ... I'm sorry, you deserve an explanation and if you let me take you to dinner I'll try and explain."

"Sure you're up to it tonight? You seem like you're still in pain." She gestured to his hand still resting on his side.

"I'm fine..."

She lowered her eyebrows. "You're far from fine, Detective, you're in pain, probably been on your feet too long, that or too much physical therapy." She eyed him critically. "... If you don't think it too presumptuous of me, why don't we get some food and take it back to my place. You can sit and relax, maybe get something for the pain."

Food sounded good, her place sounded just as good, at least there they wouldn't be interrupted by waitresses or well meaning friends and he would have the chance to apologise for his behaviour when they first met.

* * *

Despite the seeming tranquillity of the weather, crime had not stopped and this was about to be proved when Adam entered Stella's office late in the afternoon carrying a computer tablet.

"Um, Stella, you got a minute?" he asked hesitantly, still feeling nervous around the senior CSI despite, or perhaps because of, the night they had spent together at the start of the summer.

She looked up from her files, a slight frown on her face which smoothed as she saw him. "Yeah, I'm waiting for Scagnetti to get back to me with an ID on my John Doe from the docks, what do you need?"

Adam rubbed his hand nervously over the back of his head. "Well, you know I've been trying to track who could have planted the bomb at the UN, and, well I think I got something, I've finally scanned every piece of footage from before and after the siege, I found this couple," he said, handing over the tablet. Stella scrutinised it as the short video played on a loop. "They left when the main building was evacuated, but you'll see that they never looked around as they left... it's kind of unusual, everyone wants to know what's going on..." He pointed at the screen. "But these two-"

"- didn't need to look, because they knew what was happening. Were they UN employees?" Adam didn't get to complete his sentence as Stella jumped in, her eyes gleaming with the promise of a case breakthrough, and did it for him. He felt himself blush a little but focused on answering her question.

"Nah, I ran facial recognition on the UN security database and got nothing but there's a lot of street cameras around there... they got in a cab over on third."

Stella nodded and looked impressed, which increased his blush. "Good work; do we know what happened then?"

"No, but take a look at the bag the guy's carrying, it's big enough and seems to contain something rather heavy." He waited, watching while Stella inspected the film footage on the tablet again and he felt his heart race when a smile lit up her face as she reached the same conclusion he had.

"Like the statue stolen from the Feyordin delegation?"

It had been a few days after the siege when the news came through about the theft. A national treasure from the small African state, the statue was due to go on display during the General Debate and was to have been presented to the UN Secretary General during a lavish banquet with the Heads of State that weekend.

A knock on the door frame drew their attention and Lindsay entered. "Are you ready for this? I just got a call from Scagnetti; one of his contacts has got wind of something big moving underground in the antiques world. Apparently it's causing quite a stir, now what do we know that could cause that big an impact?"

"Could be a lot of things," Adam answered warily, looking between the two women while his mind ticked through the possibilities; it was times like this when he wished he knew more about history and its artefacts. He did pretty good with Greek and Egyptian, he could even muster information on Roman and Aztec, but the other ancient antiquities were a mystery to him.

"What has Scagnetti found out?" Stella asked, seizing on the information.

"He's going to meet his informant and get more details, he'll call me after. Looks like there could be a sale going down anytime," Lindsay said, looking pleased with herself.

Stella looked thoughtful and placed the tablet down slowly. "So we have a possible sale going down, we also have a missing statue... anyone else thinking what I'm thinking?" It was her turn to look between the two of them.

Lindsay's eyebrows rose. "That there's a connection?"

"Exactly." A smile crossed Stella's face, a smile that showed her instincts were alerted. "See what else you can find out, I have a feeling this is all connected with what went down at the UN. Let me know what Scagnetti comes up with; Adam, stay on this," she instructed as she picked up the tablet again and waved it in front of him. "See if we can trace the cab company and find out where these two got dropped off, I'll go tell Mac we may have some new leads on the UN case."

"Sure. It's about time, I'll be glad when we can finally wrap this one up," Lindsay said as she made her exit.

Taking the tablet, Adam nodded in agreement, he had been thinking the same thing, but Lindsay had voiced it first. "I'll get right onto it, Stella."

"Thanks," she gave him another quick smile before returning her attention to the files. He started to leave, but paused at the door, turning back as he considered what was on his mind, gazing at Stella's bent head. It took only a second to make the decision to speak. "Uh, Stella?" he asked, running his free hand through his hair.

She looked up, a little startled. "Everything okay? Was there something else you wanted?"

A moment of wry thought slipped past his mind, along with memories of other times. "I just, uh, just wanted to say I'm glad you're okay... And that you and Mac are okay, you know, both of you." He hoped she knew what he meant, what he was trying to convey to her.

Fleeting emotions passed across her face as she nodded. "Thanks, Adam, I appreciate it." There was a pause; he lowered his eyes to his shoes for a moment, and then raised them with a new confidence as Stella continued a little hesitantly, "And you're okay?"

"Me?" he grinned, and his answer was truthful. "Yeah, I'm good, very good..." He took a breath, and then decided, even as he felt a faint heat in his cheeks, to disclose further information to Stella, realising that this was the right moment to do so. "I, uh, I've got a date tonight in fact." The evening he and Hawkes had gone for a drink and met with Sid and his wife had turned into a longer night than either of them had planned, they had remained in the bar, and he had found himself chatting to a girl, and exchanging numbers. This evening would be their second date, and he was looking forward to it.

There was genuine happiness in Stella's face. "That's great, Adam!"

"Thanks, yeah, I'm happy," he nodded before shuffling his feet and jerking his thumb back towards the AV room. "Well, I guess I better get back to, you know, all this stuff." Raising the tablet, he took a step backwards, patting the door frame as he went. With a smile at the corners of her mouth, Stella watched him.

"Good. Let me know when you find anything else."

"You'll be the first to know," he said and with a final glance at her, he turned his eyes forward and walked away, aware that a long overdue resolution had been reached for him over the matter of Stella and himself. A feeling of relief and satisfaction settled over him and moved his feet into a quick twisting dance step as a grin broke over his face.

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Flack and Natalia to agree on her local take out place and several hours later they were sitting in her apartment surrounded by empty take out boxes; he was slouched across her couch while she curled up in the chair. Her business suit had been discarded for a pair of track pants and a baggy t-shirt and her hair was pulled back from her face by a hair band, making her look younger.

He had spent the evening quizzing her about her travels and work and a relatively comfortable silence had fallen between them, but he knew it was time to say something, he just wished he knew how to put the words together without ending up with her pitying him or worse, seeing the tears, which he still felt when he thought about Jess. She must have picked up his unease as she spoke next, her voice calm and quiet.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

He started, a spike of nerves pushing through him at her intuition. "Tell you what?"

"About Jess."

"How do you know her name?"

Her gaze was gentle with sympathy. "After you got shot... it was about the only coherent thing you said." Flack barely remembered anything about the actual shooting; he certainly didn't remember saying her name. He looked up at Natalia, who looked back at him. "If you want to tell me sometime that's fine, losing someone you care about isn't easy, I'm not going to tell you I know how you feel, because I probably don't, but - and I may be a little presumptuous here again - if you would like to talk I'll listen."

Don looked around, and didn't speak for several minutes, his mind in the recent past. "She was a cop ... we were partners, dating as well. ... She was - she was shot." It was almost the first time he had said it out loud. The shrink didn't count and the CSIs already knew what had happened. There was silence as Natalia held his gaze. He felt like he needed to say something, for the first time he was feeling the need to talk about her to tell someone else who never knew her what a wonderful person she was, the trouble was he didn't really know where to start. To hide his uncertainty, he coughed a little realising she must have noticed the flash of pain on his face and his hand holding his side.

Her voice was stern. "Detective, this may sound pretty insane, but are you actually taking any pain medication?"

"It's Don, and you're right ... about the meds .... I flushed 'em."

Her eyes narrowed, and he knew that his bluffing bravado had not impressed her. "Why do I get the impression that you're a stubborn bastard?"

"Because I am." A half smile appeared across his face. She smiled back. And it was a smile that made him a little apprehensive at what she might have in mind.

"Well, Don, you're just about to find out how pig-headed _I_ can be... you got anything for the pain?"

Feeling even more obstinate himself, he glared at her. "Told you, I flushed them."

"Okay, well, I've got some codeine, take them and we can continue talking." She rose from her seat and moved past the couch towards the kitchen.

He wasn't sure what made him do it, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist as she passed, wincing in protest at the pain which shot through him as he drew her closer. "Why do I have this feeling you're a pain in the ass?"

She grinned. "Still? Well don't let me stop you from going home if you'd rather wallow in self pity on your own than take some advice from a friend."

"A friend huh?"

Her eyebrows rose. "I think spending a night handcuffed together counts."

He paused for a moment, not quite sure what to make of her then slowly released the grip he still had on her arm. "I'd like to talk, if you're still willing," he said, a gruff tone creeping into his voice.

"I am, but you need to stop playing the martyr and make yourself comfortable. Did you really flush the pills the doctors gave you?"

Slowly he shook his head; it was like she could see right through him. He felt like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "You're a pain in the ass you know that?" he mumbled.

"So you keep telling me. Where are they?" Her voice was firm; the look she fixed him with made him confess.

"Jacket pocket." He answered quietly, defeated. She had been the only one to have pushed him this far. Hawkes had counselled, Stella had yelled at him, Danny had asked, but shut up when he said he didn't need them. Somehow she was different. She wasn't going to take any of his crap. He watched her move across the room to retrieve his jacket which was over the back of one of her dining chairs. Bringing it back to him he rummaged in the pocket and withdrew the pill bottle. Maybe taking a couple wouldn't hurt; the only problem was that he was likely to end up an emotional wreck if they pursued the discussion which was brewing. But maybe he was willing to give it a try. Something was telling him it was time to talk. He blinked and found her holding a glass of water out to him.

Accepting it silently he returned his gaze to her as she curled herself back into her chair and sipped the glass of red wine he had poured her earlier.

"Okay, you win... _this_ time." He tossed the pills in his palm once and then into his mouth and swallowed them down with the water she had brought him. He had to admit, the pain was still excruciating at times and it didn't help that he now had scar tissue on scar tissue.

"Does that mean there'll be a next time?" she asked, her eyes never leaving him.

"Depends," he shrugged, a grin creeping onto his face.

"On?"

"You, if you'd consider letting me take you to dinner?"

"You have sort of - you bought the food. You don't have to make a habit out of it you know."

"Maybe I want to." He waited for her reaction.

Her eyebrows rose again. "Let me get this straight, the first two weeks you're either yelling at me or ignoring me, I'm kind of surprised you even showed up to see me."

"I guess something about being handcuffed to you for a night upped my tolerance levels." He glanced over to her and grinned. Uncurling herself from the chair, her glass in hand she walked over to him, matching his grin.

"To a new friendship then," she said and held out her glass. "And Jess."

He clinked his glass of water against her wine glass, the light sparkling in his vision for a moment. "A new friendship," he echoed. "And Jess."

* * *

That dinner with Stella had become a habit was something Mac was more than happy about. Every week since their abduction, they had shared a meal out; alternating who chose the venue each time. This evening it was his turn and he had taken Stella to a small restaurant in the far corner of Manhattan. Small it might be, but confidently so and the dishes were prepared and served with panache. Being the middle of the week they were one of only a few couples. It suited both of them, as it allowed them the peace to talk and focus on each other's company.

During the first course, they had discussed work and their current cases, and the frustration caused by the blanks drawn on the inquiries to track down their two missing suspects; the two they believed to be behind the siege and heist pulled at the UN, the sabotage of Danny's car and their kidnapping. About the theft of the statue, officials were remaining tight-lipped, and Mac had found himself increasingly infuriated by their attitude. At the moment, things were at a standstill. It had taken much counsel from Stella to ease some of that frustration, for which he was grateful.

As their plates from the first course were removed, their communication turned to other matters. In the pause of conversation, their hands met across the table; his palm facing upwards, hers settling across it, her fingers caressing his wrist. The muted ambience made her smile radiant and it illuminated his emotions. For the first time in longer than he cared to remember, he felt content.

Stella regarded him intently, her eyes glowing as light from the candles on their table glistened in the green depths. "You're happy," she stated in a quiet voice. "That's good to see."

"It's good to feel that way," he replied simply, placing his other hand over hers.

Her smile beamed at him. "I agree."

There was only each other, their linked hands, their gazes holding as they shared their thoughts silently. He was at peace, but even with Stella safe and well with him, Mac still experienced moments of recall; of the time in the warehouse, their narrow escape and her injury and its consequences. Recollection of that still possessed the power to bring a shadow into his mind.

"It's going to take a while," Stella said gently, seeing into him. "For both of us, and for everyone. It takes time, you know that."

Mac nodded; he was not the only one who had experienced nightmares after what they had been through. Some nights had been spent just holding each other, taking much-needed comfort and reassurance in their closeness and presence. Time would heal though, and would, he knew, bring them even closer. They had talked, and would talk more, about what had happened. After some hesitation and deliberation, he had also shared with Stella what she had revealed when in a near-delirious state on their way to the UN in the broken-into car; how she had been a little more open than she might have been if she had not been concussed about her feelings on recent events - their unexpected visit to Greece and all that had befallen them since. It had led to both of them opening their hearts to each other more than they had ever done before.

And here they were now. Finding that their hearts fitted together as they had always known they would. What dreams, or shadows, may come their way in the future, they knew they would not face them alone.

* * *

Deena glanced up and down the beach, it wasn't as crowded as it had been recently, but there were still a fair number of the beautiful people out enjoying the weather. She revelled in being one of them as she slipped off the chiffon wrap she was wearing to reveal a baby blue coloured bikini which she knew looked stunning against her tanned skin. With another glance around her she sat on the beach lounger and swung her feet up before lying back and enjoying the sun's rays.

A rustling at her side a few minutes later followed by a shadow falling across her caused her to lean up on her elbows and raise her sunglasses to look at the offender. She squinted up at Carson as he held out an exotic drink that was streaked with pink and orange liquid. Sitting up, she reached for the glass he was holding.

"Just what I need, now get out of the way, you're blocking my sun," she quipped her voice conveying a more friendly tone than the words themselves.

Carson merely nodded and seated himself on the lounger next to her, which was half hidden by a large parasol. As he removed his shirt it was obvious from his lobster colouring that the sun didn't agree with him and he began liberally plastering his skin with high factor sun block, wincing as he rubbed it in. It won no sympathy from her; if he chose to fry himself in the heat, he had to suffer the consequences.

"Have you heard from our friend?" he asked eventually as he cleaned his fingers on a corner of his towel before taking a swig of the beer he had brought for himself.

She sipped at her drink, savouring the fruit taste laced with alcohol. "Everything went perfectly; the item in question was traded in the underground markets back in New York, right under everyone's noses. No-one knows where it came from or where it went; as far as the cops and everyone else knows it just disappeared. The money will be banked later today, which means we have the funding to plan the main event, and according to my sources the perfect timing will be around Spring -that should give enough time for the dust to settle and those meddling cops to forget all about us," she informed him, before taking another long sip of and putting the glass down. After one final glance up and down the beach she reclined herself again, a self satisfied smirk fixed to her lips. Their victory had only just begun.

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AN: So that's it folks ...._**The End**__ ... Please review and give us your final thoughts, but don't go away we will be back with a sequel, we're delighted you came along for the ride._


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